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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22965118">Sunshine from Out of the Blue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelOnEarth/pseuds/MelOnEarth'>MelOnEarth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:21:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>68,751</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22965118</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelOnEarth/pseuds/MelOnEarth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hancock's soulmark had been cold as ice since the day it appeared. That could only mean one thing: His soulmate was dead as a door nail. That is, until the mark on his arm began warming up one day, seemingly out of the blue. </p><p>Nora never had a soulmark, until she crawled out of her frozen hibernation in Vault 111 to find a strange new name scrawled on her palm.</p><p>Between cryosleep and other various misunderstandings, Nora and Hancock had reason to believe their soulmates were dead the moment they came into each other's lives, until evidence started to suggest otherwise.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Hancock &amp; Female Sole Survivor, John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>436</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. How Could I Not?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hancock’s soulmark had been ice cold since the day it appeared.</p><p>Back in his days as a smooth-skinned teenager, when he reached the age where soulmarks began to appear, he had eagerly awaited for the moment that his supposed soulmate’s name would imprint itself on his skin. It came at different times for everyone, in different places, fonts, or colors. John still vaguely remembered how his father’s name looked on his mother’s arm, a scratchy black scrawl on the inside of her elbow. Dad’s soulmark was harder to remember for some reason. He only recalled it being in a neat, cursive print and some pastel color—light blue, or maybe pale green? Dad died so long ago, well before mom, it was hard to reach back that far. He did remember Dad saying that his mark didn’t show up until his twenties—just a week before he met Mom. He would try curb John’s impatience by saying something about how fate didn’t have as grand of plans for some lives as it did for others, and that not having a soulmark meant freedom to focus on other things for a while.</p><p>In Hancock’s case, it seemed like fate couldn’t give a damn about him. The moment his mark appeared, it was cold to the touch. Everyone knew that could only mean one thing—his soulmate was dead as a door nail.</p><p>As a kid, it seemed unfair. Why would fate or God or Atom or the universe or whatever was calling the shots decide to pick a soulmate who was already dead? It was all screwed up, and he spent long nights as a teenager staring at that cold patch of skin, trying to see a point in all of it, when he should have been reading comics or wanking it to old mags like other kids his age. At some point, he asked his parents if he could get rid of it, but they advised against it—his father in particular. Something about it serving as a reminder that destiny wasn’t everything. Hindsight being what it is, Hancock figured his parents didn’t have the heart to tell him that you couldn’t get rid of a soulmark if you tried. Regardless, the thing drove him crazy, and a dirty bandana tied around the forearm quickly became his trademark. It did nothing to stem off the icy cold of the mark, but at least it kept the thing out of sight and mind. With all the shit that happened, what with Dad dying and Mom's health failing soon after, then the whole fiasco with Diamond City and the move to Goodneighbor, John Hancock hadn’t wasted a single thought on the mark for years.</p><p>So when the mark started burning earlier that month, he had been more than a little confused. If anything, he found it aggravating to be wrenched back into the black hole of questions that the mark created for him when it first stuck its nose in his life. It sucked him right back into the same emotional bullshit that pervaded his teenage years. There he was again, staying up for long stretches at night, staring at it. After all this time, it seemed he still wasn’t over it.</p><p>One day, he mentioned it to Daisy in passing while taking his usual morning stroll around the town, hoping that someone with her life experience might have an idea what was going on. She could only shrug in response. “In my 200 years, never heard of a cold mark heating up again.”</p><p>Well that didn’t help. “Are you sure? Any chance it might just be going away?”</p><p>Daisy shook her head sadly. “John, my husband has been dead for over 200 years, and I can still see his name clear as day. It’s still cold as anything. Trust me honey, it’s not going away anytime soon.”</p><p>Hancock nodded. “You still think about him?”</p><p>Daisy smiled. “How could I not?”</p><p>***</p><p>That night, like every night since the burning started, Hancock sprawled out on the musty couch in the Old State House, lit a cigarette, and rolled down the sleeve of his ruffled white shirt to stare at the mark, waiting for it to change or go away or do <em>something</em> besides stare back at him as if it had something to say. Looking at that name still made his heart sink into his stomach. It was written in some neat serif font, like something fresh off a pre-war typewriter, and the blue ink was as clear and legible as the day it appeared, even on his new, rough set of ghoul skin. Chewing on the end of his cigarette, he mulled over what this name was supposed to mean to him.</p><p>Nora Duchesne. Like something you’d find on a bougie old bottle of wine. Doo-SHEZ-nay. He always pictured her as some classy young thing in a freshly laundered, cotton dress. Hair rolled up into soft curls, lips painted victory-red like those pre-war gals. If he closed his eyes, he could see flashes of her, like you’d see in a dream. Nora laughing in the sunshine, freckles on her face, sipping Nuka Cola through a straw, her lipstick leaving a small red ring on the striped plastic. Part of him liked to think she’d have been a bit of a troublemaker on the side—peeks of bruises on her knees when her skirt hiked up, stealing her dad’s cigarettes, wearing scarves in the summer to hide the dark marks on her neck.</p><p>Shit, the poor thing. He was what, sixteen when her name came into his life? And she was already a goner. World didn’t even give her a chance. But hey, even, though soulmates were usually close to your own age, big age differences weren’t all that uncommon either. It would be nice if he could tell himself that a twenty-something, vivacious Nora had lived a full, but short life somewhere before going out in some “forever young” blaze of glory, like an old Hollywood starlet.</p><p>Or maybe she was just some real old buttoned-up broad who died in shock as soon as she saw <em>his </em>name tattooed on her body somewhere.</p><p>Regardless of whatever stories he told himself, the reality was this: Looking at that name broke his damn heart. He had spent years picturing some young girl, still trying to find her way in the world, shot clean by a raider, or going pale with rad poisoning while her parents held her hand and wept, or her pretty face torn off by a deathclaw. Her whole life ahead of her, and gone before she even had a chance to do anything with it. If there was any consolation to be found in the story, at least she kicked it before she had to get tangled up in the mess that was John fucking Hancock.</p><p>The ghoul tried to pull himself back down to earth, tuning back in to the sounds of Goodneighbor at night—drunken laughter, the buzz of generators, the ghost of Magnolia’s voice floating up from the Third Rail. But however much he tried to find the ground, Nora was up there in the clouds smiling at him, like some goddamn angel beckoning him back from reality.</p><p>He blew smoke out his nose and let out a tired sigh as he tugged his sleeve back down. He rolled over to put out his cigarette, inhaled some Jet, and laid back down on the creaky old couch. “C’mon man,” the ghoul grumbled as if the mark was listening, tilting his hat over his eyes. “Let the dead stay dead.”</p><p>***</p><p>Nora was cold as ice when she crawled out of her cryopod in Vault 111, coughing frosty air from her lungs. She remembered shivering uncontrollably as she took Nate’s wedding ring from his cold, dead finger, too shocked to cry or scream or any of the things you would expect someone to do in this beyond bizarre situation. Her fingers were so frozen as she stumbled her way through the vault, she struggled to complete basic tasks—open a door, type on a keyboard, load a gun. Moving towards the exit, she gradually began to warm back up, and was just about thawed when she climbed onto the elevator that took her out of the vault for the first time in—</p><p>“200 years? I’ve been gone that long?”</p><p>“A bit over 210 actually, mum” Codsworth replied in that matter-of-fact way, whirring away on their scorched front lawn as if she had just came home from running errands. “Give or take the earth’s rotation and some minor dings to the ole’ chromometer.”</p><p>Nora was speechless. Two hundred years. Yet here she stood, alive, the skeletal remains of her neighbors laying just around the bend. It was too surreal. She turned away from Codsworth while he jabbered on (something about her being late for dinner), to take in the crumbled remains of her old life. Damn, what felt like minutes before really was already her <em>old</em> life.</p><p>The sight laid out before her reminded her of an old polaroid, all bent up, stained, and a little burnt around the edges. The outline of a memory was still there, but time had damaged it almost beyond recognition. The more you handled it, the more the picture faded into…something else. Mind racing as she tried to process this mess, she lifted her hand to chew at her cuticle, but stopped short, noticing something on her wrist. She stared at it for a long while, eventually rubbing at it with her hand, then the sleeve of her vault suit to see if it would go away. She might as well have tried to rub away her skin, because there it stayed, plain as day.</p><p>Noticing her sudden fixation, Codsworth stopped mid-sentence and floated up to Nora. “Something wrong, mum?”</p><p>There was an uncomfortable span of silence before she responded. “Codsworth, you know how I never had a soulmark?”</p><p>He let out a hesitated whir before responding in usual chipper tone. “Ah yes, mum, I remember! Not so unusual, of course. Master Nate didn't have one either.”</p><p>Nora shook her head, eyes still fixed at that spot on her wrist. “It’s not that, it’s just—” she dropped her arm and turned to him, confused. “Codsworth, I have a soulmate now, and he’s <em>alive</em>.”</p><p>           </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Last 200 Years</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The last 200 years had really done a number on Fenway Park. Nora sighed as she approached the front gates, Dogmeat attentive at her heel. What used to be an old familiar sight to anyone from the Boston area was now an uncanny sort of fever dream. A dark-haired girl in a newsie cap was having an animated, heated argument with someone over an intercom. Turrets whirred away in the city rubble, feral dogs all skin and bone growled from behind a chain-link fence, jumpy guards dressed as umpires patrolled the perimeter, their eyes bloodshot pinpoints behind the grill of their masks. The air swam with the stench of dust and sewage. Hell, she wouldn’t want to be locked out here either.</p><p>Nora wasn’t sure if she looked like garbage, or just felt it. Her makeup was smudged horribly, and exhaustion from ongoing insomnia had formed dark circles under her eyes. A bout with something called a Deathclaw in Concord had left her face—and the rest of her body for that matter—mottled with bruises. The trip across the ruined landscape of Massachusetts had left her disoriented, tired, and feeling more vulnerable than she had ever felt in her life. And now, here she stood right outside the door to what she hoped could be a safe haven, and the doors were shut tight.</p><p>Psst, hey! You want into Diamond City, right?”</p><p>Nora almost jumped, wincing slightly as her sore muscles went tense. It was the dark-haired newsie. Nora approached tentatively. The girl fixed her with an intent stare and held a finger to her lips. “Just play along,” she whispered before turning back to the monitor, her voice louder and more chipper than before. “What’s that, you say you’re a trader up from Quincy? Enough supplies to keep us stocked for the whole month. Huh!”</p><p>Nora fumbled nervously with the zipper of her jacket. Were they really going to believe that? What if they searched her? Her pack was filled with nothing but junk.  </p><p>“So you gonna let us in Danny, or do you want to be the one to talk to crazy Myrna about missing out on all the stock?”</p><p>“Alright, alright, jeez!” The voice on the other end sounded young, not much older than twenty. “Just don’t let the mayor see you.”</p><p>The girl beamed as the gates opened, turning to Nora and jabbing her thumb over her shoulder. “Better head inside quick before Danny catches on to the bluff.”</p><p>A little confused, but not wanting to argue, Nora followed quickly behind her, Dogmeat happily trotting at her side. “So this is Diamond City?” she asked to fill the silence.</p><p>“The one and only” the newsie replied. “First time, huh?”</p><p>“How could you tell?”</p><p>She shrugged dismissively. “You got that look about you. And the pip-boy is a dead giveaway.” The newsie opened her mouth as if to say more, but she stopped at the sight of an old, stout man in a tan suit, fuming in anger ahead of them. Her face fell immediately. “Uh-oh,” she groaned.</p><p>“Piper!” he barked, “Who let you inside? I should scrap your printer for parts, the slanderous garbage in that paper of yours!”</p><p>“Oh, that a statement Mr. McDonough?” she snapped back, arms crossed firmly over her chest.</p><p>Nora’s face fell. McDonough? She looked down at the name inscribed there on her palm. There it read, plain as day, in a scratchy black scrawl: John McDonough. Her hand closed into a fist as she looked up at the man before her. This wasn’t <em>her </em>McDonough was it? She winced at the sight of the red-faced man, spitting fire at Piper. He was old, gray-haired, stout, and…her soulmate? Hell, this didn’t feel anything like that stories she had heard back in the day. People always talked about instant recognition, undeniable chemistry, and some irresistible magnetic attraction. This was—well, not like that at all. The only gut feeling Nora had was hunger gnawing at her stomach, and a touch of nausea.</p><p>Piper pulled Nora back to reality. “Why don’t we ask the newcomer? You support the news? Because Guy McDonough is threatening to throw free speech in the dumpster.”</p><p>Much to Piper’s confusion, Nora exhaled a sigh of relief. Guy, not John. Different McDonough, right. Seeing Piper’s puzzled stare, Nora fumbled for a quick response. “I, uh…yeah, I’ve always believed in freedom of the press” she said lamely.</p><p>Piper snapped her head back to McDonough, a victorious smirk on her face. “See?”</p><p>McDonough adjusted the lapel of his suit. “Oh, miss, I didn’t mean to bring you into this argument. You certainly seem like Diamond City material to me. Welcome to the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth. A fine place to spend your money and settle down.”</p><p>Nora shifted nervously to one leg, unconvinced. “Thanks, I guess.”</p><p>“Now, is there anything in particular that brings you to our fine city?” he asked beaming that vapid, car salesman smile.</p><p>Piper looked to her with interest. Nora crossed her arms defensively. “Just passing through.” She paused. “And looking for someone.”</p><p>McDonough gave her a puzzled look. “Oh? Who exactly?”</p><p>“Just…” she dodged the question. “Where would I go to find a missing person around here?”</p><p>Piper shook her head. “Well, whatever you do, don’t bother going to Diamond City Security for help.”</p><p>McDonough threw an annoyed glance at the reporter. “Don’t listen to her. While our security force can’t pursue every missing person case that comes in, I’m <em>sure</em> you can find the help you need here. Diamond City has many talented citizens with unique services to offer.”</p><p>A vague, unhelpful answer. Nora uncrossed her arms and slapped on her cheapest smile, the one she usually reserved for those slimy bastards at the HOA. “C’mon, the mayor of the Great Green Jewel must know all the best nooks and crannies in his own city,” she pressed. “Where would you recommend?”</p><p>“Well…” he hesitated to answer, eyes avoiding hers as she spoke. “There is one private citizen, Nick Valentine. He’s a detective of sorts who specializes in tracking people down.” Piper turned to Nora, a small smirk playing on her lips.</p><p>"Guess he’s the man to talk to then” Nora responded with a gracious smile. </p><p>Piper turned back to the mayor. “Come on McDonough, out with it already. What’s the real reason security isn’t handling these cases? There’s something else going on here.”</p><p>“I’ve had enough of this Piper. Consider you and that sister of yours officially <em>on notice</em>” he barked, jabbing a finger in her direction.</p><p>Piper waved a dismissive hand at him. “Yeah, keep talking McDonough, that’s all you’re good for.” She turned to Nora, a sudden beam on her face. “I’m impressed, not everyone can get that kind of information out of McDonough’s tight-fisted hands.” She looked her up and down with roguish interest. “You know what, stop by my place when you’re done talking to Valentine. I think I just found my next story.”</p><p>Without waiting for a response, Piper turned on her heel and made her way to towards the city, leaving McDonough fuming besides her. “Damned troublemaker” he muttered.</p><p>Nora was about to set off herself, but she could still feel her soulmark burning on her palm. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right? She turned to McDonough hesitantly. “So, is McDonough a popular name around here?” she asked.</p><p>The mayor raised a quizzical brow. “Not in particular, why?”</p><p>Nora paused. “Do you happen to know a John McDonough?”</p><p>It was like a storm cloud had suddenly rolled over Boston. The mayor’s face went dark, his jaw tightened, and his mouth formed a tight line. Nora immediately regretted asking.</p><p>“Not anymore” he said pointedly.</p><p>Nora’s confusion was plain on her face. “What do you mean?”</p><p>The mayor took a step towards her, deliberately meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry, but John McDonough is dead.”</p><p>***</p><p>Hancock woke in the morning to a sore neck and the sound of hushed voices just across the room. Blinking at the morning light, he squinted to see a burly-looking man hand over a folded up newspaper to Fahrenheit, which she silently exchanged for a pouch of caps before motioning for him to leave. The burly redhead scanned the paper intently, brow furrowed, only drawn from its contents by the sound of the couch creaking as Hancock sat up to plant his feet on the floor. </p><p>“Good, you’re awake.” She said, freckled face in its usually grimace. “I just received an interesting bit of news you might want to know about.”</p><p>John cracked his neck and reached groggily for a tin of mentats on the coffee table in front of him. “Shoot.”</p><p>“Caravans caught sight of someone with a vault suit heading towards Diamond City from Concord a few days ago. One of their guards handed this off as confirmation” she waved what he now recognized as a copy of <em>Publick Occurrences</em>. “Apparently she’s headed our way now.”</p><p>Hancock held his hand out. “Vault-dweller, huh?” Fahrenheit crossed the room, dropping the paper into his outstretched hand. Hancock skimmed the first few lines while Fahrenheit lit a cigarette. He frowned. “Piper had to have written more than this.”</p><p>Fahrenheit nodded, tapping the loose ash off her cigarette. “This is the first segment of a three-part story. I already paid for the rest of it, but you know how the caravan guards are. The guy can’t exactly make a beeline back to Diamond City.”</p><p>Hancock nodded, eyes still glued to the paper as he lit a cigarette with his free hand. “If you’re dying to know more, I could pay a scout to run and grab the rest of it, but honestly, I’m not all that worried.” He tossed the paper on the coffee table. “Hell, with the institute planting synths right under our noses, a confused vaultie stumbling out into the wasteland for the first time is the least of my worries.”</p><p>Fahrenheit nodded in agreement. “Honestly, I doubt she’ll make it to Goodneighbor in one piece.”</p><p>Hancock blew smoke at the copy of <em>Publick Occurrences</em>, dark eyes narrowed. “We’ll see.”</p><p> </p><p>             </p><p>           </p><p>  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you again for reading! I'll be updating sporadically as I feel a chapter is ready to go out, but please do leave kudos and comments so I know that people are interested in reading more!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Let Me Tell You Something</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Noon had just broke over Goodneighbor, and Hancock was already running short on energy to get off the couch and start seeing to his mayoral duties. Business for him was shaken up for a week or so after hearing about the incoming vaultie, but after three weeks with no trace of a blue jumpsuit at his gate, Hancock figured that either Farenheit’s intel was unsatisfyingly premature, or the poor bastard didn’t make it past the mess that was the commons or the area around Trinity Tower. So, things had gone back to business as usual, with the exception of that annoying burning on his arm still keeping him up at night. Even though a ghoul didn’t need sleep like a smooth-skin, the mental toll of more than a few all-nighters in a row was still pretty damn real.</p><p>On this particularly mild December day, in lieu of dragging his wrinkly carcass through town just to make an appearance, Hancock voted to hide away in his office. Squinting his eyes against the noontime sun, he reached for a canister of jet and took a huff, held his breath for a long while, then laid back down, letting the hazy cloud of his high pull him back into sleep. He started to dream of green grass and sunshine, coffee fresher than he’d ever tasted it, and the sound of a radio humming in the distance. He saw shiny counter tops, a freshly-printed newspaper, and the unfamiliar smell of something sweet and doughy cooking in the next room—maybe a sweet roll? He sat down on a bright red couch while a strangely familiar woman read the paper. He tried to see her face, but it only came to him in flashes. Sun-kissed cheeks splashed with freckles, hair the color of rust, lips a soft pout. He tried to rearrange the images in his mind, like a series of too-close photographs, but every time he grabbed at one piece, another disappeared. Everything was so clean and bright, he had trouble making it all out.</p><p>And then a Mr. Handy—spick and span like it was fresh outta the factory—whirred into the room. “Miss Nora,” it called. The woman looked up from her paper, fear glistening in her eyes. A disembodied, crackling voice said something about bombs in Pennsylvania. The newspaper fell from her hands, pages flying everywhere, the loose print floating around the room like snowflakes. She ran for the door, and the feeling in Hancock’s gut told him that something real bad was about to happen. He tried to get up from the couch, but he couldn’t move, and his voice caught in his throat when he opened his mouth to warn her. He reached for her as she ran past, fingertips barely missing her arm before she ran out the door, straight into a blinding white light.</p><p>He woke up.</p><p>The ghoul pushed himself off the musty couch, heart racing in his chest. He scrambled for a box of dirty water on the coffee table. Panting too hard to drink, he splashed some on his face, fell back onto the couch, and pressed his palms to his eyes as he tried to remember the dream. But the more he reached for it, the more that it slipped away between his fingers, dissipating like smoke before his eyes. As he slowly came back to reality, there was one small detail that he was able to hold onto. It played over and over in his head like a broken record, as if it was important or something. He wrenched back his sleeve to see her name, burning on his arm.</p><p>“Nora” he sighed. “What happened to you?”</p><p>***</p><p>Piper’s lead on Nick Valentine had led Nora down a spiraling mess of unanswered questions, red herrings, dead ends, and more than a few near-death experiences. Unraveling this mess would have been hard enough in her old life, but the Commonwealth made things significantly more difficult to tease out. While ROTC had paid for college, Nora was not as combat-ready as her late husband would have been. Starting out, she didn’t have a clue how to navigate this post-apocalyptic wasteland. Hell, Nate was such a die-hard military man, by now he could probably have found Shaun, built a time machine, and gone back to prevent any of this from happening in the first place. Nora would be back at home, dusting off her law degree (or as her mother often called it, her very expensive “Mrs.” Degree) and shining Nate’s shoes while he watched television.</p><p>Well, maybe she preferred it this way after all.  </p><p>The wasteland had been a jarring, but eventually rejuvenating break from the humdrum routine of domestic motherhood. She had smeared the lipstick and blush away from her face, not once looking back, and traded soft ginger curls for grimy ponytails without a second thought. Her shoes were practical and comfortable, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was living life on her own terms. She wasn’t standing demurely behind her husband in line at the bank or cooking meals for his poker buddies on Friday nights. She was looking for <em>her </em>son, and she was focusing on doing everything she could to adapt to this new world in a way that suited <em>her </em>goals.</p><p>Piper and Nick had been nothing short of saints, helping her make the adjustment. They were understanding, and took time to teach her important wasteland survival tips, like how to shoot with a bad pipe pistol, and when her aim came up short, how to hammer extra pieces onto her armor so she could get close enough to do damage with a nailed-up baseball bat. (Shame she never got that softball scholarship).</p><p>After a week or so of running some low-risk jobs—at least, as low-risk as they could get out here—the team had concentrated their efforts on tracking down Kellogg. They were successful, but then the trail ran cold. All Nora had to go on in her search for Shaun was a hunk of gooey brain matter coagulated around a tangle of metal and wires. The odds of finding him didn’t seem to be in her favor, but what else was she supposed to do? She couldn’t leave her baby alone out there. So, Nick sent her to a Dr. Amari in Goodneighbor, who apparently might be able to glean some information from this mess.</p><p>By the time they took out Kellogg, Nora felt like she was finally hitting her stride in this new environment. So when Nick directed her sights to Goodneighbor, she insisted that Piper hang back to spend time with her sister, and that Nick go ahead and meet her there when he could. She could use a road trip with just her and Dogmeat to test her mettle. Not to mention some time to gather her thoughts after everything that had happened with Kellogg. The information that her son was alive, and somehow mixed up in this business with the Institute, had given her plenty to think about.</p><p>Piper and Nick had mapped out the safest route for her to take to Goodneighbor, marking which alleyways did or didn’t have dead ends, and where the supermutants and raiders tended to hang out. It made the trip go by rather smoothly. Having left early that morning, Nora caught sight of the neon sign indicating the entrance to Goodneighbor peeking through the rubble by sundown on the fourth day. Triumph already washing over her, Nora pushed forward towards the front entrance. She had just started to step nonchalantly over the bodies of a few less-than-lucky travelers when she heard a feral snarl rip out from behind her.</p><p>Her body reacted faster than her mind, whipping around and swinging a baseball bat overhead and down. A resounding crack was followed by a pathetic whimper, then more barking in front of her. A pack of mongrels had crawled out from a nearby pile of rubble, and were heading straight for her.</p><p>Nora pulled her nailed bat from the head of the first dead mutt, and flicked off the blood before charging forward to take care of the rest.</p><p>She would make this quick.</p><p>***</p><p>“Have you seen Marowski’s numbers lately?”</p><p>Hancock snapped back to reality, buying himself some time by meticulously lighting a cigarette before answering.</p><p>“Yeah, Fahrenheit, it’s not looking so good. Man’s lost his touch.” He exhaled contemplatively. “What do ya figure he’s worth to us nowadays?”</p><p>The redhead shrugged. “It’s not like he’s making any trouble for us, but if he keeps going like this, he’s going to become a liability.”</p><p>Hancock nodded at that. “Sure, but let’s wait to see how this new safe house turns out. Maybe he’ll start doing more than just earning his keep again.”</p><p>“And if he doesn’t?”</p><p>Hancock crossed his arms and leaned against the brick wall of the Old State House. “All depends on how the wind’s blowing when we get there.” The ghoul started rubbing at where a coat sleeve covered his bandana. That mark was burning like a fucking radscorpion sting today. He had to be going feral.</p><p>“Do you think it’s wise to just wait?” Fahrenheit asked, eyes narrowed.</p><p>Hancock shook his head. “We aren’t just cooling our heels over here. If we plan everything in advanced, we’re just gonna look all complacent and predictable. I want that bastard to know we got eyes on him, So we’ll keep watch on the Rexford and double-check all the books, see where things go from there.” He started pressing on the mark in an attempt to stifle the burning. He tried to look casual, but Fahrenheit—ever the eagle-eyed observer—took notice.</p><p>“What is up with you lately? Infected track marks or something?”</p><p>Hancock opened his mouth to make some lame excuse, but he was stopped short by a sudden bustle by the front gate that stank like typical Finn bullshit.</p><p>“Well, well,” Fahrenheit crooned, “looks like our vaultie finally showed up to the party.”</p><p>Hancock turned, sucking hard on his cigarette. After a long look, he tossed the smoking butt to the side and stamped it out with his boot. “I’ll say.”</p><p>Finn must have been some kind of goddamn idiot to try shaking down the woman that just rolled into Goodneighbor. She was a tiny thing, but built lean and tight, carrying a nailed baseball bat freshly-painted with what he would guess was the blood and guts of his junkyard guard dogs. She was definitely a vaultie, pipboy and all, but she didn’t look much like the poor bastards that crawled out of vault 81. She had a scavenged mess of scrap metal strapped over her suit, an arsenal of weapons on her hip, and a pretty mean looking mutt at her side. On top of that, she had a swagger about her that just screamed “I’ll gut you, ya sunnuvabitch,” all live-wired, electric-blue eyes and messy red hair. Damn, was she a looker though. Maybe Finn had something a little less than savory up his sleeve with this one. Not the first time Finn had scammed a girl into his bedroll, but for some reason, this one made his blood boil.</p><p>“Unless it’s ‘keep-assholes-away’ insurance, I’m not interested.”</p><p>Hancock smiled at that. Gal had a mouth on her. He liked her already.</p><p>A greasy smile spread across Finn’s face. “Now don’t be like that doll. I think you’ll like what I have to offer.” The filthy con held his cigarette at the crotch of his pants suggestively, hungry eyes undressing her like the worthless dog he was. Hancock felt his skin burn and knuckles pop as he balled his hands into angry fists.</p><p>The redhead smiled doubtfully, pushing her hip to the side and crossing her arms, amused. “If that’s to scale, I’m sure I can find a better model.”</p><p>Finn stuck the cigarette back into his mouth, wolf-like eyes narrowed. All it took was that lowlife taking one step closer to that girl, and Hancock was pushed off the wall of the Old State House, closing in like a vulture with a well-practiced swagger.</p><p>“Whoa, whoa, time out” Hancock growled, an unusual edge to his voice that he didn’t recognize. “Someone steps through the gate the first time, they’re a <em>guest</em>. Lay off that extortion crap.”</p><p>Finn turned to regard the mayor with disdain, flicking his cigarette and spitting on the ground between them. “What do you care, Hancock. She look like she’s one of us?”</p><p>Hancock held a steady gaze, heat dancing across his skin like a wildfire, protective and possessive, fueled by the burn of electric-blue eyes on him as he spoke. “No love for your <em>mayor</em>, Finn? I said let her go.”</p><p>Finn shook his head and pointed an accusatory finger. “You’re soft, Hancock. You keep letting this outsiders walk all over us, one day there’ll be a new mayor.”</p><p>Hancock’s fingers twitched, and he saw Fahrenheit lean against the wall of the gun shop, ready to intervene. She wouldn’t need to. A growl hummed low in his belly as he took another step closer. </p><p>“C’mon, Finn, this is me we’re talking about,” one hand rested on his hip, feeling the weight of his knife there. “Let me tell you something…”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. You Alright There, Sunshine?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hancock had just started to reach for the knife at his belt when he heard Finn let out a sudden sharp breath. The ghoul froze as Finn’s eyes went wide, body jerking forward, the shiny red tip of a knife peeked out from the hollow of his throat. The conman was pulled backwards with a sudden jerk, and the knife was gone, replaced by the gush of warm blood. Finn’s hands scrambled to make sense of the sticky-crimson pouring from the hole in his neck, life leaving his body the more he tried desperately to grasp onto it. He fell to his knees, confused, choking and gasping for air through a wet gurgle of panic. Eventually, the bastard went blue in the face, then tumbled face-first onto the dirty cobblestones. When all had gone silent, Hancock looked up to see the red-headed vaultie standing there, wide-eyed, white knuckles gripping the still-crimson knife as if she expected Finn to stand back up and take a swing at her. When Finn didn’t get up, her eyes darted from the lifeless corpse to Hancock, searching him for a reaction. Goddamn, but those eyes. </p><p>Hancock felt his hand drop away from the knife at his belt. Admittedly, he was stunned. Didn’t expect someone in a vault suit to dole out justice so decisively. But then again, looking at her face, the girl had to have been through hell. Her hair was pulled back in a greasy bun, her eyes lined with dark circles, and she was sporting a few fresh-looking scars and callouses. She was fucking beautiful to look at, no doubt about that, but she had that look of being cracked in half and glued back together. At some point he realized he was staring at her like radstag in sights, and Hancock remembered himself enough to plaster a practiced, devilish grin across his face. “Well damn sister, gotta say I like your style. Strolled right in here and showed Finn who’s boss.” He nudged at Finn’s shoulder with the toe of his boot. “Bastard got what was coming to him. But don’t let that mongrel ruin your first impression of our friendly little collective here. Goodneighbor is of the people, for the people, ya feel me?”</p><p>The vaultie met his eyes cautiously, a question stitched on her brow. Her eyes narrowed at him, her face drained of color. “Yeah,” she hesitated. “I feel you.”</p><p>Hancock studied her for a moment, searching for something familiar in her face that would match the hint of recognition burning in his gut. He <em>knew </em>this stranger somehow. Not like she was now, no. The dirt and scars were all wrong. But the sharp of her eyes and the curve of her lips were like a familiar dream. He’d seen them before, but not like this. This was wrong somehow—uncanny valley kinda shit. At a loss for anything meaningful to say amidst his confusion, Hancock nodded and delivered his usual lines. “Then we should get along just fine, sister.” He held his hand out over Finn’s body, still warm on the bloody cobblestones. “Mayor Hancock.”</p><p>The woman regarded his outstretched hand with a look that wasn’t quite suspicious, but unsure. She wiped her knife on the leg of her vault suit, holstering it on her belt with care before taking the ghoul’s scarred hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m—”</p><p>Hancock waited patiently for a moment, but the woman couldn’t seem to spit it out. Her eyes had glazed over, and her face wore an expression that suggested she was lost somewhere else. Her hand held his steadily, but her shoulders shook and her lip quivered as if she were trying to say something, but couldn’t form the words. Hancock stepped in closer, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder and lowering his head to catch her mile-long stare. “You alright there, sunshine?”</p><p>She answered with a stricken look—something between recognition, confusion, and surprise—that lasted only a moment before her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Without thinking, Hancock lunged forward to catch her body, just as her knees gave out beneath her. He saw electric-blue eyes flutter for only a moment, and then she was gone.</p><p>***</p><p>There had been plenty to occupy Dr. Amari at the Memory Den before Mayor Hancock had stormed over her doorstep. The Den had been overrun with customers lately—what with the news of institute infiltrators in Diamond City, and the accusations made against the mayor’s own brother, there was a heavy fog of suspicion and worry weighing down the citizens of Goodneighbor. Residents had come creeping in at odd hours seeking refuge from themselves, electing instead to fall into the old comforts of a time long past. Amari was unsurprised by this sudden surge in customers. After all, when things grew difficult, people often turned to an idealized past for comfort. Nostalgia was a stronger sedative than any drug they sold on the streets or in that old hotel. She had just been taking inventory to ensure her stocks would hold up against the sudden surge of business, when Mayor Hancock came rushing down the stairs into her office, a German shepherd at his heel. Lately she had been too busy for walk-in customers, but the look on Hancock’s face said that this was an emergency. Never in her life had she seen him with that kind of look in his eyes. His usually cool demeanor had been replaced with raw worry and panic, and he clutched the limp body in his arms like she would disappear in a puff of smoke if he didn’t. His mouth was moving in a stumbled rush, trying to explain what happened, but the story was coming out a scattered mess. Either he was high, or something had shaken him up badly. The doctor could only spare a brief glance at the young women in the ghoul’s arms before dropping her current task and issuing short orders to bring some order to the sudden chaos. “Calm down John, you’ve come to the right place. Lay her down on that table and turn on the light. No, the other one! Step back, I need space too look at her. Whose dog is that? Why is it—never mind, that’s not important. Just keep it back while I look at her. Tell me what happened.”</p><p>The woman he had brought in was pale with sunken eyes that suggested a shortage of sleep and surplus of stress. Amari immediately began her examination, lips pulled tight, working quickly while the mayor sputtered out a panicked string of sentences in an attempt to explain the situation. She had just arrived in town, no one knew who she was or why she was here. Killed Finn, was about to have a chat with the mayor, then fainted. The doctor search for any sign of injury, but could not find anything significant. She had some relatively new scars that were on the mend, but otherwise showed no signs of illness or severe trauma, and was better fed than most people in the commonwealth. No cracked ribs or broken bones—the picture of health, really. She was breathing steadily, but the flickering behind her eyelids suggested something akin to REM sleep. Possibly severely sleep-deprived, enough so that passing out had placed her immediately in a dream state. Amari was feeling her for a temperature when Hancock began to ramble anxiously.</p><p>“I mean Doc, she just <em>fainted</em>” he said with a tense jaw. His mouth fought to hold a hard line, but his normally laid-back demeanor was fraying at the edges. “Just stabbed that fucker like it was nothing and went out like a light! She was just fine and then she wasn’t.” The mayor had begun to pace, hand rubbing nervously at his coat sleeve. </p><p>Amari nodded as she felt for a pulse. Steady, normal. “Did Finn hurt her?”</p><p>“He never got the chance." He paused to glance at the hound waiting patiently at her bedside, who responded only with a slight tilt of his head. "She had a bloody swatter when she came in, so she must have been in a fight on the way here, but other than that she looked <em>fine</em>. She had a helluva look in her eye before she fainted. Maybe—fuck Doc, is she on something?"</p><p>Without a word, Amari pulled back the patient’s eyelids to check her pupils. No abnormal dilation, responding appropriately to light. She rolled up the sleeves of the woman’s vault suit and looked for track marks. An unsterile needle could lead to infection, or if she found marks that were too faded, she could be in withdrawal. She had antiseptic and addictol on hand, but if she had taken a dose of something poorly made or cut with something nasty, there wasn’t much she could do to help without knowing exactly how the drug had been made. Fortunately, her search found no needle marks on her arms. Amari was about to pull the woman's boots off to check for signs of injections between her toes when she noticed a strange mark on her right hand. She lifted the limp wrist to look, and found herself exclaiming a sudden “hmm!”</p><p>Hancock’s brow knitted at the sound. “What is it Doc, is something wrong?”</p><p>Amari stared on the words on the woman's palm, lips pursed, for what felt like minutes before finally turning her gaze to Hancock, holding back a smile. “John, you said you just met this woman?”</p><p>“Yeah, she didn’t even have a chance to give me a name. Why the hell are you smiling like that? She <em>fainted</em>.”</p><p>“As soon as you touched her, yes?”</p><p>Hancock hesitated, brow furrowed. “Yeah, but we just shook hands, no funny stuff. Why? What’s wrong with her Doc?”</p><p>Amari turned back to the woman’s hand, thumb running over the words etched there. When the script didn’t smear or smudge she took a deep breath, set the hand down tenderly, and turned to Hancock. “John, I—”</p><p>The ghoul paid her no attention as he shot out to grab the woman’s wrist, eyes searching for whatever had given Amari pause. Amari watched silently as the ghoul examined the scrawl on her skin, stepping back to give him the space he needed for this kind of news. His brow furrowed, and she saw something flicker in those black, depthless eyes as he read and reread the words on her open palm. After a moment he pulled up the sleeve on his own arm, troubled eyes searching for something between the folds of his ghoulish skin. His mouth opened and closed, opened and closed, as if he wanted to form words but had forgotten how. Finally, he froze, a strange look darkening his face. Amari had never seen Hancock like this, but it made something in her stomach turn. She watched as he reached out to ghost his hand over a strand of ginger hair, the other hand trembling as it grasped the woman's limp hand. There was a long period of silence, in which he only stared, before he reached out with ruined fingertips to brush the soft curve of her cheek, a look of disbelief and reverence dancing behind his eyes. “Oh my god” he breathed.  </p><p>“John, are you alright?”</p><p>Hancock pulled back with a jolt and shook his head—more in confusion than in response to Amari’s question, mumbling something that the doctor couldn’t quite catch. He looked away from both of them for a moment, gathering himself, before turning back to Amari.</p><p>“Her name is Nora.”</p><p>Amari finally let herself smile. “John, I believe congratulations are in order. It’s not every day that someone meets their soulmate.”</p><p>***</p><p>Hancock and Amari were standing in the stairwell outside the office where Nora lay sleeping soundly, that hound keeping guard by her side. The Doc had said she just needed rest before leading Hancock outside to field his questions, leaving Nora to rest. Yeah, he had a lot of questions, but none that he could actually form into words at the moment. Hancock had taken the liberty of lighting a cigarette before seating himself in a slump on the steps, eyes staring blankly ahead. His cigarette lay long forgotten, twisting back and forth between his fingers, a long line of ash waiting to be tapped off. Seeing that he was too stunned to actually speak, Amari began explaining the situation to him in a low voice, although he gave no indication that he was listening.</p><p>“Fainting during first contact between soulmates is uncommon, but no cause for concern, I assure you. Accounts have shown that particularly sensitive individuals can experience difficulty processing the emotional response to physical contact with their partner. Whether you felt a similar reaction or not, hers was likely very intense. Patients who do not experience many early impressions of their partner are especially susceptible, as they have not had the same amount of time to adjust to the connection. As a result, the ‘latching on’ that takes place upon first meeting can be overwhelming.”</p><p>Hancock rubbed a hand over his face. His partner? Emotional connection? Impressions? It explained all the weird dreams he’d been having lately, but it didn’t make the reality any less daunting. His mate—his <em>soul</em>mate was laying just in the other room, alive and <em>okay</em>, snoozing away like a goddamn angel, waiting to wake up and meet…him. Guess Fate hadn’t forgot him after all. But what the hell did that even mean now?</p><p>Amari had paused for a moment to give Hancock a chance to respond. When he didn’t she pressed forward with her explanation. “The mark is the site where your connection is felt in its most concentrated form, so if she really is the vault-dweller from Piper’s article, it makes sense that it felt cold while she was in cryogenic stasis, and that sensation returned to it after she woke up. We will have to wait until she wakes up to know how the mark is affecting her, but after the initial shock of connection she shouldn’t experience any other adverse effects. She may dream as you did, or she may not. The experience is different for everyone.” Another pause. “John, are you alright?”</p><p>Hancock nervously brought his cigarette to his lips, ignoring the long tower of ash that fell on his pant leg. “Yeah, sorry, Doc. It’s just, she’s been dead to me since I was a kid. And now all the sudden…let’s just say I got a lot on my mind.”</p><p>Amari’s eyes softened. “John, you can take this at whatever pace feels comfortable. You don’t have to rush things.”</p><p>He nodded. “Yeah, fair enough. Just…” his eyes fell to his knees, fingers twisting his cigarette again. “Just don’t tell her yet. I dunno, maybe she’ll figure it out on her own, but a pre-war gal like her doesn’t—well.” He couldn’t finish.</p><p>“You’re worried what she will think about you being a ghoul?”</p><p>“Nah Doc, I got used to that a long time ago.” A half-truth. “I just got mixed feelings about this fate business. A gal says no and you get off her back, but if her name is stamped on ya’ somewhere, suddenly the rules change for a lot of people. Doesn’t feel too right, forcing a pre-war gal to feel a certain way about a mug like this.”</p><p>Amari shook her head. “It doesn’t exactly work that way, John. Don’t doubt the power of the emotional connection between you, especially now that you’ve solidified it with contact. If you’re worried about how she feels, just let things develop organically. Regardless, ignoring it will only make things worse for both of you.”</p><p>Hancock laughed dryly at that. “Ya sure about that, Doc?”</p><p>“Really John. There’s a reason doctors advise patients on this subject. It’s not just a matter of romance. It affects your mental and physical health as well.”</p><p>Hancock dragged his cigarette, only to find that there was nothing left of it but the smoking filter. He flicked the spent stub into a nearby trash can and sighed. “You saw the ring on her finger?”</p><p>Amari crossed her arms. “Yes. I believe Piper’s article mentioned that—”</p><p>“She was married, yeah. Still, I doubt she’s all gung ho to forget her dead husband and start trying an old ghoul on for size.”</p><p>The doctor stood for a moment, thinking, then sighed. “Well, ultimately this is between you and her, John. Far be it from me to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. This is a strange situation, and far from easy. Luckily, you’ll have plenty of time to think about it. She will need time to rest and get used to the connection, come to terms with it. She should stay in town for at least a few weeks, as a precaution. Meanwhile, you should take that time to collect your thoughts. You should have no trouble finding her when you’re ready to talk.”</p><p>Hancock nodded. “Will she know? I mean, will the connection tell her that I’m…?” He didn’t have the courage to finish his own question.</p><p>Amari shrugged. “If she didn’t know before, she will figure it out sooner or later.” She paused. “I wouldn’t be so quick to turn away from this, John. I know your parents were soulmates, so it may feel common to you, but not everyone gets a mark. It can be a blessing or a curse, but you won’t know which unless you give it a chance.”</p><p>Hancock’s eyes lifted to the office doorway, where he could see Nora laid out in a memory pod chair, chest rising and falling slowly, her hair fanned out behind her like a warm, orange halo. Here was this complete stranger that he had met a little less than an hour ago, yet he couldn’t stop from thinking just how goddamn beautiful she was, how utterly perfect she looked laying there covered in spatters of dirt and blood. How much he wanted to feel the warmth of her touch again—to <em>be </em>with her. He was frightened by it.</p><p>After a long moment, the ghoul stood up, hands shoved in his pockets. “Thanks for the talk, Doc. I have some town business I should be attending to. Just…take good care of her, will ya?”</p><p>Amari nodded. “She won’t come to any harm in my care.”</p><p>“Appreciate it.” He tipped his hat and turned to leave, boots thumping slow and heavy on the old wooden stairs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you everyone again for reading! I hope everyone is safe and healthy with everything that's going on with COVID 19 right now. As of now, I am fortunate to be healthy and safe. The small silver lining of this absolutely tragic mess is that I have had a lot of extra time to spare for writing, so I will try to take advantage of that as much as I can. </p><p>Please don't forget to leave kudos and comments. Your feedback is always helpful, and motivates me to keep writing and developing this story. </p><p>Thanks go out to my boyfriend, who has helped immensely in brainstorming this story.  We have come up with some pretty neat ideas together that I am excited to develop, so buckle up :) </p><p>Finally, I am a graduate student right now, and can't promise you consistent updates with my current schedule. However, one of my biggest pet peeves is starting a fanfic only for it to be abandoned. I absolutely don't want to do that to anyone, so I created a tumblr for my fanfictions where I will post new chapters and general updates on my writing progress. This way, I can let you guys know that things are still moving and maybe get some feedback on my plans for this fic as well. If that is something you are interested in, follow me on tumblr at https://mel--on--earth.tumblr.com</p><p>Thank you again so much for reading!</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Preexisting Conditions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: This chapter contains a reference to attempted suicide.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nora was standing on the Boston waterfront, looking at a quaint home on the beach that looked to have been renovated several times over with large scraps of plywood and sheet metal. It was as peaceful a place as she had seen in the wasteland so far. It’s occupants seemed to revel in the simplicity of post-war life. Someone had maintained a small vegetable garden nearby that a few stray cats wandered freely, and windchimes made of old tools and cutlery hung jingling over the front porch. Nora found herself drawn to the nearby beach, where someone had left out a metal pail and fishing rod. Despite everything, the salty sea air smelled almost as fresh as the last time she had made it out to this side of town. When she looked out at the line where the sky met the sea, it was easy to imagine that if she swam out far enough, she would reach a place where the radiation couldn’t touch her anymore, that there was a purer, cleaner place out there somewhere, untouched by the brutality of war.</p><p>Nora blinked and turned to the nearby bank. Dreamlike, a man appeared suddenly at her feet, squatting by the water as he scrubbed some dirty laundry with a bar of soap. Tendrils of reddish water ran down his arms as he worked, bleeding from the cloth in his hands. He was lean and lanky, with sandy blonde curls pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. A bitter look soured his handsome features.</p><p>“John? What are you doing?” An unfamiliar but clear voice called out from the house behind them. The man looked up, staring right through Nora as if she wasn’t there.</p><p>“Laundry” he responded dryly, turning back to his work with deliberation.</p><p>A woman appeared at his side, the same sandy hair as his, but pulled back into a tidy bun. A dirty apron was tied around her waist, the outline of a handgun securely nestled in her front pocket. “Your brother wasn’t putting tatos down your shirt again, was he?”</p><p>John avoided her gaze, scrubbing in silence. The woman sighed, kneeling down beside him. “Ya know, I’m sick of you letting him bully you like that, Johnny. You’re both adults now, you need to stand up to him and get past this.”</p><p>Johns scrubbed all the more vigorously, rust-colored soap lathering thick on his hands. “Well why don’t you and Dad do something about it then?” he snarled.</p><p>The woman’s features softened, and her voice was gentle when she responded. “Remember what Adams said? For true patriots, to be silent is dangerous.”</p><p>“You talking about me or you?”</p><p>“John.”</p><p>He finally stopped his scrubbing, but his eyes remained fixed on the stained shirt, a sad strained look on his brow. It made Nora’s heart fall from her chest. “Whaddya want me to do, ma? Guy’s always been a bully. Standing up to him won’t change that.”</p><p>The woman stood up, arms crossed. “The Commonwealth is full of bullies, John. You’ll have to learn to deal with them sooner or later.” She paused, then her voice fell almost to whisper. “Please, Johnny. There are a lot of changes coming to Boston right now. What, with word of the new settlement being built in the Fens, and raiders moving in, defending our home needs to be a top priority from now on. We can’t do that with you and your brother squabbling amongst yourselves all the time. You need to learn to be strong.”</p><p>John fell back to sit on his butt, letting out a loud, exasperated sigh. “Well why don’t you having this talk with mister man-of-the-house-while-dad’s-gone?” He switched to a mocking tone, high-pitched to mimic his mother’s. “The strong should always help the weak.”</p><p>She placed her hands on her hips, annoyed. “He’ll get his own talk later. This one is for you, John McDonough.”</p><p>“Yeah? Well, try it on him for a change.” He turned himself away from her resolutely, chucking the bar of soap into the pail at his feet. Nora watched sadly as John ran a tired hand through his curls, bright blue eyes shining like river rocks in the glow of the now-setting sun. Just like that, the woman from before was gone, her gentle voice replaced by the steady drone of the sea.</p><p>As if she were sitting in his place, Nora felt John’s frustration churning in the pit of her stomach, mixed with the utter despair of feeling so pathetically powerless. She knew all too well what it felt to feel helpless, like more of a burden than anything. It hurt to see that familiar, terrible feeling in someone else. She reached out to him, meaning to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, something that just said “I get it,” but the closer she came to touching him, the more the scene around her began to fade. She saw John begin to turn, brown eyes meeting hers for only a moment as she reached for him. Just as Nora’s fingertips started to brush the warmth of his skin, there was a bloom of white light, and the dream dissolved around her, replaced suddenly by another.</p><p>This time, she was inside that quaint house by the sea, but it was different now—a shell of what it used to be, like an old polaroid, all bent up, stained, and a little burned around the edges. She was standing in a main room that served as a kitchen and living room, with a hallway leading to two other rooms. She saw through the damaged walls, worn down and neglected, that the vegetable garden outside was little more than dust and weeds. The tingle of windchimes had vanished.</p><p>The rest of the home was filled with old, broken furniture—a table with a missing leg lay slanted on its side, covered with a film of dust. There was a couch pressed into the corner without cushions, its springs poking through the upholstery. Nora would think that the place was abandoned, but she could see shadows dancing in the hallway, accompanied by a repetitive click, click. Click, click. The sound was coming from a room at the end of the hall. Nora crept down the corridor, old floorboards sinking and rotting beneath her feet.</p><p>When she peeked through the doorway, she saw John again, but he looked vastly different from the man she saw earlier. He was huddled in the corner of the room, eyes fixed on a blank wall in front of him. He looked like he was sick or dying, a corpse compared to the young man she had just seen by the seaside. His blonde curls were tangled and matted around his shoulders, his blue eyes red and gaunt. He only wore a pair of filthy, ragged jeans, exposing his skeletal body. Nora’s heart fell as she took in the memento mori before her—ribs pressing against his greyish skin, a sheen of sweat highlighting the jut of his collarbone, cheeks hollow and sickly. He had a sawed-off shotgun in his hand, whose barrel he repetitively opened and closed, opened and closed. Click, click. Click, click. He seemed out of it, like he hadn’t slept for days. It took Nora a moment of taking in the frightening transformation before she finally noticed the empty syringes and pill bottles scattered at his feet. The floor on the opposite end of the room was littered with glass from empty bottles, as if he had simply thrown the empties at the wall. Turning back to John, she noticed the glint of two shells loaded in the barrel of the gun.</p><p>The realization hit her like a tidal wave. He was alone here in this empty shack, his former life in tatters. His mother, father, and brother were nowhere to be found, and here he was, alone in the ruins of his childhood. He was the sole survivor of the life he knew before.</p><p>Nora was frozen, unable to move or speak—not out of shock, but because her own dream wouldn’t let her. She willed herself to move towards him, desperate to rip the gun from his hands before he hurt himself, but her limbs felt like lead, and the soles of her feet were glued to the floorboards. She tried to scream to get his attention, but the sound died in her throat, a whimper drowned out by the soft, relentless roar of the ocean. She watched in horror as John closed the barrel of the gun one more time, before turning it towards his open mouth. Frantic, she opened her mouth to scream. She managed to push through the dream, letting a loud cry escape her lungs. She begged him to hear it, pleaded that her phantom voice would give him pause, but before she could see his reaction, there was another bright bloom of light. The dream slipped away from her, like sand through her fingers.</p><p>***</p><p>Nora woke up to the soft, steady beeping of machinery. She was in an unfamiliar room, lined with shelves of medical supplies and lit by fluorescent light. Someone had laid her down in some sort of reclining pod, far more comfortable than the cryopods in Vault 111, but disconcerting nonetheless. She pushed herself up on her arms, panicked, but the moment she moved, Dogmeat was at her side. He rested his head on her lap and looked up at her with dark, pleading eyes as if to say “it’s okay, we’re safe here.” She hesitated for a moment before patting his head and leaning back to rub the bleary sleep from her eyes. How the hell did she get here?</p><p>She began flicking through her memories of that day. She had walked through the gates of Goodneighbor after a relatively uneventful trek from Diamond City. Some con had immediately swarmed her, trying to feed her some bullshit insurance scam. Then someone else had intervened—a ghoul. She paused at the memory. Damn. Not a feral, but a real self-aware ghoul. Aside from Malone’s triggermen, she had never seen one up close before, let alone had a conversation with one. The people in Diamond City liked to talk about them as if they were monsters, hardly different than the ferals, but this one seemed kind in a way. He hadn't even hesitated to put himself between her and that asshole. </p><p>The two men had argued for a moment, and then—that’s right, the con was reaching for a gun behind him. The ghoul couldn’t see it, but Nora could. As soon as she saw what he was doing, she felt the sudden, desperate need to stop him. She couldn’t say why, but she felt it in her gut. She didn’t even really think about it before she plunged her knife into the con’s throat. She remembered the sound of air being wrenched from his body, the warm gush of blood running off her knife and over her fingertips, and then…</p><p>It was all fuzzy after that. The ghoul—he said his name was Hancock—thanked her, said a string of words about being the mayor or something, then offered his hand to shake. She accepted it, but then everything came to a halting stop. Something happened after that, but she was having trouble piecing it all together. It wasn’t images or a “vision” necessarily, more like abstract impressions of events long past, told only through oddly specific emotions and vague sensations. Something snapped into place, a piece of her she didn’t know she had been missing. It wasn’t like anything she had ever felt before. She remembered feeling overwhelmed, like a cup of water overflowing, then everything went dark.</p><p>After all that, she started to dream.</p><p>She dreamed about John McDonough. That curly-haired man with the sad blue eyes at a house by the waterfront. She had watched him, like a memory that didn’t belong to her. Then she saw him again, wasting away in a dirty corner. She shivered at the memory of him placing the shotgun in his mouth. She could practically taste the metal and oil when she swallowed. Maybe the Mayor in Diamond City hadn't been lying. Maybe John McDonough was dead.</p><p>There was something else about the dream though. When she saw him, it felt like she was seeing someone she had known for years. And his face—that square jaw with the blonde stubble, the furrow of his brow as he spoke with his mother, the tight line of his mouth as he scrubbed. She had <em>seen </em>that face before, but where?</p><p>Nora was mentally sifting through her recent acquaintances, trying to decide if it was a true memory or a simple case of déjà vu, when a woman in a white lab coat walked through the door. “Ah!” the stranger exclaimed, smiling. “You’re awake! You gave us quite a scare back there. How are you feeling?”</p><p>Snapped back to reality by her visitor, Nora jumped slightly in her chair. She jerked forward to stand up from her pod, but the doctor placed a hand on her shoulder.</p><p>“Settle down, let’s take it slow. You’re in the Memory Den in Goodneighbor. My name is Doctor Amari. Mayor Hancock brought you here after you fainted at the front gate. You’ve been unconscious for a few hours. You are safe now, but you needed to rest.”</p><p>Recognition dawned on Nora’s face. “Doctor Amari?” she asked, tongue fuzzy and thick after her long sleep. “Funny. You’re are actually just the person I was looking for. I was supposed to meet Nick Valentine in town to see you about something. Is he here?”</p><p>Amari quirked a brow at that. “Nick Valentine? Strange, I haven’t seen him in months. When was he supposed to meet you?”</p><p>Nora rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hands. “Sometime within the week, he said. I left ahead of him so he might not have made it yet. Whatever happened to that ghoul? And that asshole that I—Jesus, he was reaching for a gun, and that ghoul was just talking with him, I—”  </p><p>Amari held out a silencing hand. “Please, you don’t need to justify yourself. There was a considerable number of people who saw the whole thing. We know your intentions were good. The mayor is grateful for what you did.”</p><p>Nora let out a breath. “Thank god for that. Here, let me stand up.”</p><p>Amari stepped back and nodded. “Take it slow now, I don’t want to have you fainting again.” She offered her hand for support, but Nora refused it. She took her time getting to her feet so as not get lightheaded. When she managed to hold herself up, she took a few practice strides across the room, then turned back to Amari. “You said I fainted? Do you know why?”</p><p>Amari cleared her throat. “Unless you have any preexisting conditions of which I am unaware…” Nora shook her head, which prompted Amari to continue. “Well, I have a theory. You’re the one who did the interview with Piper, yes?”</p><p>Nora smiled, crossing her arms. “Vault suit gave it away, huh? Yeah, that’s me. Why?”</p><p>Amari picked up a nearby clipboard eyes darting across some scribbled notes. “Yes, well, believe it or not you are the first patient I’ve ever had who’s managed to survive 200 years of cryo-sleep, so I have no precedence for this. However, I imagine that there could be side effects to awakening from that sort of stasis. I suspect your body is still adjusting to being awake, in addition to changes in atmosphere and biological life that have taken place since you were put under.”</p><p>Nora shook her head in confusion. “I’ve been awake for months now, Doctor. I haven’t fainted like this before. Are you sure that’s it?”</p><p>“Like I said, it’s difficult to know when we have no previous data on this sort of thing. Just take it easy for the next few days. I wouldn’t leave Goodneighbor for at least a week if you can help it. It will give you time to rest, and if anything starts feeling strange, you can come see me and I will make time in my schedule to look you over.”</p><p>Nora raised an eyebrow. Were all wasteland doctors this dismissive? “That’s awfully generous of you, Doctor. But seriously, is that it? I walk out of cryo-sleep, faint, and everything is fine from here on out.”</p><p>Amari shrugged. “I conducted a thorough examination and everything seems fine. I have no reason to believe you will faint again or have any other problems. It was likely a fluke brought on by stress.”</p><p>Nora wanted to ask more questions, but Amari had already turned her focus to a work table behind her. She continued to speak mechanically as she twisted the knobs of a microscope and pressed her eye to the lens.</p><p>“If you need a place to stay, the Hotel Rexford is just down the way. They can give you a room at a reasonable price. If you get hungry or thirsty, there’s a bar underneath the Old State House. Just don’t overdo it until you’re feeling one hundred percent.”</p><p>Nora nodded, rubbing a hand over her head. “Thanks, Doctor. I’ll go check that out.” She turned to leave.</p><p>“Oh yes,” Amari said, still focused on her microscope, “I did have one question I wanted to ask you, if you’ll satisfy my curiosity.”</p><p>Nora turned back to the doctor and shrugged. “Sure, shoot.”</p><p>“Did you dream at all while you were unconscious?”</p><p>Nora was slightly taken aback by the question. “Yeah, actually. Why?”</p><p>The doctor replied with a tone of disinterest, still bent over her work. “No reason, just something to include in my notes. You may go now. Good luck out there.”</p><p>Nora opened her mouth to ask why Amari needed that particular piece of information, but seeing the doctor glued to her microscope, she decided it was best to not bother her any more, even if she had the distinct feeling that the doctor wasn't telling her everything. With Dogmeat at her heel, she turned and made her way back to the streets of Goodneighbor, interested to see what else this settlement had to offer.</p><p>***</p><p>The mayor’s office in the Old State House was hazy with smoke when Fahrenheit dropped in to check on Hancock. She found the ghoul laid out on the couch, staring at the ceiling with a cigarette smoldering in his mouth. Plumes of smoke danced from its tip and through the lines of evening sun slashing through the window panes. The full ashtray balanced on the mayor’s lap suggested he had been in this exact spot for hours. Fahrenheit threw a look to the guard at the door, who only shrugged silently. She furrowed her brow in response. Usually the mayor only chain-smoked like this when something had really gotten under his skin. Something must be bothering him—no one had seen him around town since the incident with Finn.</p><p>Fahrenheit stomped into the office and stood over the couch where Hancock lay, black eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.</p><p>“What the hell are you doing?” She asked, arms crossed.</p><p>“Smoking.”</p><p>“Obviously. You were supposed to be finding someone to take care of our warehouse situation. Instead, I find you lying here in your office smoking like a campfire. What gives?”</p><p>Hancock sighed as he dragged his hand over his face. “Shit, the warehouses. I completely forgot.”</p><p>Fahrenheit shook her head. “Are you that high? Would you like me to write you a note? Dear Mayor Hancock, I hope this message finds you well. We have a horde of triggermen trying to infest our little neighborhood <em>from the inside</em> by squatting and stealing supplies. Would you kindly explain why the hell we haven’t taken steps to remedy that yet?”</p><p>Hancock sat up, cursing when his ash tray tipped off his lap, scattering cigarette butts on the couch and floorboard. “Alright, Fahr, keep your shirt on. Charlie owes me more than one favor. I’ll head down to the Rail and have him recruit someone.” He was too busy brushing ash off the couch to see Fahrenheit’s irritated stare.</p><p>“I could have asked the bot myself, Hancock, but you said you wanted to take care of the problem personally. What happened?”</p><p>Hancock stood up, straightening his hat. “Finn happened, and that vaultie. I had to do some damage control.”</p><p>Fahrenheit raised an eyebrow. “You call carrying her to Amari’s office then spending the rest of the day moping in your own office 'damage control?'”</p><p>Hancock avoided her gaze. “It was more complicated than that. I’m not at liberty to talk about it. Did ya have that chat with Bobbi?”</p><p>Fahrenheit wasn’t fooled by how quickly he changed the subject, but she knew Hancock well enough to know he wouldn’t talk if he didn’t want to. “Yeah, she was forthcoming as ever. Wouldn’t let me step foot into that dump she was squatting in. Not like she could keep me out if I wanted in, but she’s definitely up to something. We’ll have the Watch keep their ear to the ground.”</p><p>“And that gallery?”</p><p>“No word yet from the last scout.”</p><p>Hancock turned at that. “What? When did they leave, two days ago? All I asked them to do was look around. They should be back by now.”</p><p>Fahrenheit nodded. “They should. If we don’t hear from them in another day or so, I’m assuming we lost another one.”</p><p>“Which means something real fishy is going on there.” His dark eyes narrowed. “I’m going to have that talk with Charlie. In the meantime, we need to think about whether we want to send another scout that way. We can’t leave an anomaly like that unchecked, but we don’t want to throw all our pawns at it either.”</p><p>“I agree.” She paused, studying the ghoul. “Got pawns on your mind, Hancock? That why you’ve been holed up here all day?”</p><p>Hancock shook his head, eyes deep in thought. “Nah, this one goes beyond the board. I’m not even sure I know the rules of the game anymore.”</p><p>Fahrenheit didn’t have a response to that. She simply watched as the mayor pocketed a tin of mentats and left the office with an unreadable look on his face.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you again for reading. As always, kudos and comments give me life, and your feedback helps me make this story better.</p><p>Follow me on tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mel--on--earth for updates and personal ramblings.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. If You Only Knew</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nora had found Goodneighbor to be welcoming enough, rough as it was around the edges. The desk clerk at the Hotel Rexford had been wasteland-cordial in renting out a room to her, and the bed had been more comfortable than anything she had slept on in ages. After spending one night there, she decided to rent the room out for the rest of the week. She figured that would be plenty of time for Nick to catch up with her, and for her to recover from her fainting spell, doctor’s orders and all.</p><p>Truth be told, after one day in town, she was surprised to find that Goodneighbor had already grown on her. She had been made wary by its dinged reputation, but there was something relieving about the transparency of the place. Diamond City was great, and had a little more going for it in terms of infrastructure, but she had spent too much time and energy there trying to interpret the suspicious, sometimes condescending glances thrown her way, or how people would sigh anytime she sat next to them at the noodle stand. At least in Goodneighbor, people told you to buzz off if they didn’t like you in their space, and the guards had no problem taking a jab at her clothes or pipboy as she passed them in the street. Diamond City had more of a polish to it, but in Goodneighbor at least she knew where she stood.</p><p>On top of that, Nora found the settlement’s strange citizens endearing, in their own way. She had nearly shit herself when she walked into the weapons shop and saw an assaultron standing behind the front counter, then practically jumped out of her skin when it started talking to her with a voice that was decidedly female. Then there was Daisy, who just seemed so comfortable in her own skin, ghoulish as it was. She had no problem pointing it out when she caught Nora staring—the whole ghoul thing was still new to her after all. And when Nora explained that she was from pre-war, they were able to have a pleasant conversation about all the things they missed, like the feel of green grass, watching the leaves change every year, and the taste of fresh berries from the supermarket. They reminisced like this whenever Nora would stop by, usually prompted by one of them saying “hey, remember when” or “do you ever think about this thing or that?” It was nice to be around someone who remembered the world before.</p><p>While she took her daily strolls, Nora found herself on several occasions peering through crowds and looking down alleys in search of a red frock coat and tricorn hat. She told herself that she was looking for a chance to thank the mayor for his help the other day, but really, she knew that she was hoping to find something else in a chat with the mayor. She just didn’t know what. Answers? Yes, but she didn’t know which questions she was supposed to be asking. She just felt in her gut that she needed to talk to him again, that it was important.</p><p>At first, Nora resolved to set those thoughts aside until she had a chance to talk things over with Nick, but it seemed that the ghoul haunted her everywhere she went in Goodneighbor. The guards bantered freely about what happened to “ol’ Finn,” and made a point of reminding her not to get on the mayor’s bad side every chance they got. When she stepped into the Third Rail for the first time, the front doorman mentioned that Hancock had put a good word in for her. Then, after Nora was feeling up to doing some light work around town, Nora took a job cleaning some gangs out of local warehouses, only to find out from Whitechapel Charlie that Hancock was the one who posted the job in the first place. She was running into him everywhere, but she still had yet to actually see him since their first meeting. He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, following her like a shadow.</p><p>Nora had been in Goodneighbor for a week when she finally managed to talk to Mayor Hancock. That morning, she came down from her room at the Rexford to find a note from Nick waiting for her at the front desk. Apparently, Ellie had fallen ill just after Nora left. Despite the sad news, Nick still managed to make her smile as she read:</p><p><em>Ellie insisted I head out to Goodneighbor anyways, that she was fine by herself</em>, <em>but I know the gal too well. She’ll let herself keel over dead before she leaves the office unattended. So I’m going to stick around here and hold down the fort until she has a chance to recover. If you’re in a hurry, go ahead and meet with Amari anyways. Just show her this note, she’ll know its me. Or send me a response and we’ll figure something out. Either way, I’ll send word ahead when I’m getting ready to leave. Watch yourself in Goodneighbor. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Nick.</em></p><p>Nora pondered Nick’s scrawl for a moment before borrowing a pen from the front desk and scribbled out a quick reply. She told Nick that she had plenty to keep her busy in Goodneighbor, and didn’t mind hanging around a bit longer. She wished Ellie a fast recovery, and echoed his “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do” before signing the note and handing it to Clair along with a few caps. The woman took it without a word, and Nora smiled at the scowl that crossed her face as Fred Allen emerged from the basement, stinking of jet. The look in Clair’s eyes told Nora to get out of dodge before she got caught in the crossfire, so she made a swift exit from the hotel lobby.</p><p>When the vaultie stepped out onto the street, she was surprised to find it emptied of the usual drifters. Even the Neighborhood Watch had abandoned their posts. Looking around in confusion, Nora noticed a crowd gathering around the Old State House, all abuzz about something. She crossed the dirty street to see what the fuss was all about. As she approached the gathering, Nora thought she recognized the raspy voice floating out over the crowd. Her heart thumped in her chest, and her stomach fluttered when she turned the corner to see a familiar figure in a red coat leaning on the railing of a balcony. Mayor Hancock.</p><p>“We freaks gotta stick together!” he announced as Nora pushed her way into the crowd. “And the best way to stick together is to keep an eye out for what drives us apart, you feel me?” Nora fixed her gaze on him, studying the power in his posture, the way his mouth moved as he spoke, how the corner of his withered lips flicked into a smile at people’s shouts of agreement. The ghoul had charisma, no doubt about that. He had the crowd—Nora included—hanging on to his every word as he spoke, and his voice had a fire to it. Even though his words had that easy “heat of the moment” quality about them, Nora could sense the thought and planning that had gone into them. Nate had a similar tone whenever he spoke at the Veteran’s Hall. Precise and organized, but from the heart.</p><p>Nora listened, unsurprised to learn that the panic about the Institute had spread to Goodneighbor as well. Her heart fell as she listened, suddenly reminded once more of Shaun. She had spent the last couple of days wandering Goodneighbor, sifting through everything that had happened with Kellogg—his memories, the news that Shaun was somehow mixed up on all of this, that the bogeyman of the Commonwealth had her baby. She tried not to dwell on it—she couldn’t. It frightened her, how powerless she felt chasing an invisible monster.</p><p>Nora felt herself slipping into that pit of despair that usually opened beneath her whenever she thought of Shaun, but she was pulled out of her thoughts by the ghoul next to her, who was shouting up at Hancock. “I don’t know, Hancock!” he yelled. “I’d sure love to give McDonough a kick in the ass.” A few people laughed at that.</p><p>Hancock held out a staying hand, his features darkening for a moment. “Hey, we all know I go my personal beef with that lard-head, but stay focused!”</p><p>Nora cocked an eyebrow at that. She didn’t have to be in Goodneighbor long to know that everyone here hated Diamond City, and they especially hated its mayor. Having met Guy McDonough herself, she certainly couldn’t blame them, but she was surprised to hear that Hancock had a “personal beef” with the man. Maybe he knew something about the McDonough name that could help her figure out what happened to John?</p><p>Nora studied the ghoul as his speech neared the end, watching as his eyes scanned the crowd. Nora could swear that he saw her, letting his gaze pause on her for a moment before he continued, but she couldn’t be sure it was her he was looking at.</p><p>But then she saw his eyes dart in her direction one more, the morning light dancing across them, black and reflective like volcanic glass. Her skin burned under the heat of his gaze, and she realized that her palm was stinging, right where John McDonough’s name lay inscribed on her skin. She dug her nails into the flesh of her palm, pondering the question that lay burning there. Yeah, she could feel it. Mayor Hancock knew something about the McDonoughs, and she was going to find out what. As the ghoul’s speech came to its spirited conclusion, and the crowd began to shout in unison, Nora slipped away, making her way toward the doors of the Old State House.</p><p>“Of the people, for the people!”</p><p>***</p><p>Hancock shut the balcony door behind him and slumped against the hard wood, relishing in the feeling of something solid at his back. Amari hadn’t been kidding about this whole soulmate thing. The minute he caught a glimpse of Nora in the crowd, it was like someone had lit his skin on fire. His heart started to hammer in his chest and he fought to keep from stumbling over his words like a teenager seeing tits for the first time. Every inch of him was screaming to leap off that balcony and <em>talk</em> to her already. Look at her, tell her who he was, maybe feel the warmth of her touch on his hand again. But damnit, he couldn’t. No matter how much the damn mark had been hounding him the past week to get the hell out of the State House and go find her, he didn't have it in him. It didn’t matter how goddamn pretty she was, or how his heart burned whenever he heard her voice floating through his office window, bouncing soft and bright off the walls of his dusty office.  </p><p>Yeah, he’d been keeping tabs since he left her at Amari’s. He hadn’t sent anyone to tail her or anything like that, he’d just keep his eyes and ears open whenever he looked out his office window, paying special attention whenever he saw a red ponytail bouncing down the street, or heard the ring of her laugh echo through the market—an exact copy of the one he had heard in years of daydreams. He didn’t know if it was the mark or just him getting a feel for her routine, but after the first few days, he didn’t need to look or listen for her arrival. He would be tapping away at his terminal, green glow filling the dimly-lit space, then something would just sweep over him, like a cool summer breeze. Whenever he felt it, he'd peer out his window and there’d she be, smoking a cigarette or countering the Watch’s catcalls with that sharp tongue of hers. God, he loved it when she talked back. </p><p>“I’m more of a lover than a fighter, you know what I’m saying?” One of the guards shouted after her the other night. And Nora, that minx, turned around, gave him a cheeky once-over, and said “Shame, I prefer a fighter in the bedroom.” God <em>damn</em> had that gotten him hard.</p><p>Even after he had resolved to leave the poor gal be while she recovered, locking himself into his office and cancelling all his house calls for the week, Hancock hadn’t been able to get Nora off his mind. It was maddening, trying to focus on work without thinking about her. How tough she had to be to take down Finn like that, yet how soft she had felt when he carried her in his arms after she fainted. How her hair had framed her face while she lay there in Amari’s office. How his name was stamped on her hand like she was made just for him.</p><p>He hated that last thought. He pushed it away every time the mark whispered it in the back of his mind. That she was his, that she belonged to him and him to her. Hancock couldn’t stand that kind of talk—it made him sick. People shouldn’t own people.</p><p>He’d tried to shake her off his mind with chems more than once, with little success. Jet had only made those thoughts whizz around his head faster, and daytripper had left him with nothing but a sore right arm and a dirty dishrag for the trash. Even mentats had just led him to over-analyze the situation, going over every moment of their first meeting with a fine-toothed comb, compiling a mental list of why he should or shouldn’t show her his mark, and running through a list of positions he’d like to see her in. It was the sort of thing that made a ghoul go feral. No question, Hancock was a fucking mess.</p><p>So, you could imagine how fast the poor ghoul’s heart dropped outta his ass when he finally pushed himself away from the balcony door and made his way back to his office, to find a certain red-headed angel climbing the spiral staircase, sparks dancing in her eyes. He froze to the spot when he saw her, orange halo glowing in the dusty streams of morning light falling through the windows. She caught a glimpse of him as she climbed, and smiled. I mean she fucking <em>beamed</em> at him like she was actually glad to see his ugly mug.</p><p>“Mayor Hancock!” she called out as she reached the top of the stairs. She approached him without any hint of the apprehension she had shown after their first meeting. She looked fresher now, eyes bright and skin scrubbed clean of the blood and muck that had been there before. Even her hair looked softer, curling slightly at the end of her ponytail. Hancock could only stare as she began to speak. “You probably don’t remember me”—yeah, he thought, if you only knew love—“My name’s Nora. I’m the one who, uh, fainted the other day.” Hancock saw her cheeks flush pink, all bashful and cute. A weaker-willed man would’ve swept her up right then and there, closed the door to his office, and kissed those freckles while he spanked her. Unfortunately, Hancock didn’t have the luxury.</p><p>He swallowed hard, and fought to get a hold of himself. “Yeah, Nora. I remember. Took quite a tumble there after you gutted Finn. How ya feeling?” He fumbled for the cigarettes in his breast pocket, fighting to keep his hands from shaking as he lit up.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine now.” She paused. “Sorry, by the way, about Finn. I was just—well, he was…” she fumbled.</p><p>Hancock shook his head. “Hey, none of that now. Daisy told me he was going for a gun. Sounds like things could’ve gone sideways for me real quick if you didn’t step in. Did me a real solid back there. Cigarette?”</p><p>She breathed a sigh of relief before smiling and reaching to take one from the pack he offered, tapping it on the rail of the staircase before placing it between those soft pink lips. Hancock did the gentlemanly thing and offered to light it. He regretted the decision almost immediately as his hand fought to hold steady, despite the his nerves.</p><p>Nora glanced over at him before leaning forward to accept, eyes lowered. He reached forward until the flame licked the tip of her cigarette, the light dancing warm on her features, glowing like a sunset over those ocean eyes. As she inhaled, embers glowing between them, she glanced up at him through her lashes, and Hancock forgot how to breath. While he gathered himself, Nora stood up straight and draped her arm over the rail of the staircase, one leg crossed over the other while she smoked, hip cocked to one side. The mark urged Hancock to place his hand there on the swell of her hip, to trap her against the rail with his body, but he balled his hands into fists and resisted the urge. You didn’t just reach out and grab a gal uninvited like that. But fuck, did he want to just fall on his knees before her like a dog begging for scraps. Hancock pushed past the various, ungentlemanly images dancing around his head, scrambling to return to the conversation at hand.   </p><p>“So,” he managed to say, “what can I do to help out our new visitor?”</p><p>She paused, holding the cigarette between her fingers with the lit end in the air, the way those pre-war gals always did, so their hands wouldn’t smell like smoke afterwards. When he pushed an ash tray her way, she rolled—didn’t flick—the ashes off. “Well, first thing’s first,” she began, calm. “I wanted to thank you for helping me the other day.”</p><p>Hancock waved a dismissive hand at that. “Ain’t nothing I wouldn’t have done for any other drifter who showed up on my doorstep.” He meant it.</p><p>She fixed him with an earnest gaze as she continued. “Then you’re different from most people I’ve met in the Commonwealth.” She paused to consider him, lips pursed in thought. “Listen, I’m new to this world. Not just because I came from a vault, but—”</p><p>“You’re prewar.” He finished for her, trying to sound casual.</p><p>“I—yes. How did you know?”</p><p>Hancock shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Mayor should read the papers, don’t you think?”</p><p>“Ah, right. Piper’s article." Her lips curled into a smile. "Looks like you have me at a disadvantage, Mister Mayor.” The gears were turning behind her eyes. It made him nervous. Hancock tried not to think of other contexts in which he’d like for her to call him “Mister Mayor.”</p><p>She continued. “Speaking of the paper, there was something else I wanted to ask you about. Your speech earlier—”</p><p>Hancock smiled. “Ah, you like it? I give it every now and then just in case the Institute is listening in, make sure they know not to mess with Goodneighbor.”</p><p>“I got that impression.” She said through a smile, and Hancock felt himself grin in response, like some dopey teenager with a crush. She continued “I actually wanted to ask about something you said back there, about the mayor of Diamond City.</p><p>Hancock’s face fell, and his retort was sharper than he would have liked. “Yeah? What about him.”</p><p>He felt her take note of his response. “Well, I met the guy while I was there, but you said the two of you had a personal disagreement. How do you know him?”</p><p>Hancock took a sharp drag of his cigarette, blowing smoke hard out his nose. “We have a little more than a disagreement, I’d say. Guy’s an asshole who hates ghouls. That’s all ya gotta know, end of story. I wouldn’t waste your breath on anything he’s involved with. Trust me.”</p><p>Nora stood there for a moment, likely taken aback by the sudden turn of mood, then shook her head, ponytail swinging behind her. “No, it’s not him I’m really asking about.” She switched her cigarette to the other hand, then held out her open palm to show the scrawl he already knew was there. He froze, his mark burning with excitement as she began to ask the question he knew was coming next, the one he had been dreading the answer to for days.</p><p>“What can you tell me about John McDonough?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all again for reading! Also, a big thanks to everyone who leaves comments and kudos--your feedback keeps me motivated! </p><p>This chapter was difficult to write because I really wanted it to be *just so*. I've also been feeling slightly paralyzed after reading some great fanfics recently that truly set the bar for writing sexual tension (see another Hancock fic called "Bendin' Over" by FancyLadySnack Cakes, a Jareth/Sarah Labyrinth fanfic titled "A Carnival of Dreams" by Painted Glass, and a great Dramione fic by SenLinYu titled "All You Want") that have all had me thinking hard about how I want Nora and Hancock's relationship to unfold in this fic. </p><p>At the same time, I've been thinking a lot about the deeper implications of some popular fic tropes like the soulmark or the Omegaverse--both of which I love reading, but find problematic nonetheless, particularly as it relates to questions of consent. Without giving too much away, I want to work through some of my thoughts on that in this fanfic, so please do share your thoughts on these things as they arise. </p><p>Follow me on tumblr at https://mel--on--earth.tumblr.com for updates and periodic emotional outbursts.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Freaks, Huh?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hancock’s heart hammered in his chest as he bent forward, pretending to study the mark on Nora’s hand. It’s black scrawl stood out stark on the lily white of her palm, like a slash of mud on virgin snow. He resisted the primal urge to reach out and touch it, to feel some part of him thrumming with life on her skin.</p><p>His eyes hid from her gaze as the wheels began to turn in his head, frantic. Christ, what should he say? The stinging on his arm was screaming for him to just come out with it already. To tell her that he was John McDonough, that he knew they were soulmates, and that he’d spent his whole life mourning her death only to discover she was very much alive.</p><p>His teenage self would jump at the opportunity to finally meet Nora, that devilish ball of sunshine that danced through all his daydreams. But adult Hancock? He wasn’t sure what to do. He knew he should just be honest with her, but he also didn’t like the idea of shoving his own mark in her face, like it meant she owed him something. The idea made him sick to his stomach. Hey, I’m your soulmate! So we doing this or what? Fate decided for us, so we might as well right? Never mind whether you actually want to, or that you’re probably still mourning your dead husband.</p><p>It had dawned on Hancock a few days back that Nora might not have seen a ghoul before him, aside from a few ferals maybe. Irradiated people were just a part of life for everyone else, and even then, they still weren’t fully accepted in most places. He couldn’t imagine what they must look like to someone who had never seen that kinda thing before.</p><p>Hancock’s time for stalling was about to be up. Nora was looking at him expectantly, those big blues practically begging him for answers. He had to come up with some sort of reply, or a confession, or a grand gesture, or something. <em>Think fast, Hancock. This is the part of the story where the dashing hero charges in and sweeps the lady off her feet. Guy with your personality can manage that, yeah?</em></p><p>“That’s a soulmark.”  </p><p>
  <em>Great. Perfect. Absolutely nailed it, Mayor Dumbass. </em>
</p><p>She nodded. “Yeah. Does that sort of thing still happen? You know, after the bombs and all?”</p><p>Hancock nodded, eyes fixed on her hand to avoid her gaze as shame crept over him. “Sure does. I don’t know anything ‘bout how it used to be, but it’s real rare these days. Folks consider it a pretty big deal if you get one.”</p><p>“It was really rare back then too. I never met anyone who had one. Didn’t get mine until I woke up in the vault.” She paused, brow furrowed. “Well, that’s some good news at least. I was worried that people wouldn’t know about soulmates anymore.”</p><p>Hancock finally met her gaze. “You think that kind of thing would just disappear all the sudden? Ya’d think it would take more than a few bombs to scratch out the big capital 'F' Fate.”</p><p>She gave a weak smile. “I guess not. It’s just…this was kind of a new thing for us pre-war folk. Hell, I don’t think people even started talking about it until I was born. Kind of freaked people out for a while. At least until they figured out how it all worked.”</p><p>Hancock was genuinely surprised by that. “What? Never heard that before. Just figured the marks were always a thing.”</p><p>“Apparently not.” Her gaze fell back to her palm, fingers touching it idly. “No one ever knew for sure why it started in the first place. There were theories, sure. Atomic energy, biowarfare, food preservatives, stuff like that.” She looked at him through her lashes and smiled. “The tin foil hats used to say it was part of a secret government eugenics program designed to breed super soldiers.”</p><p>Hancock raised an eyebrow. “Tin foil hats?”</p><p>“Old pre-war saying. Conspiracy theorists, basically.”</p><p>Hancock leaned back, crossing his arms tight over his chest. She was an odd one, sure enough. But he had the feeling he could listen to her talk about the old times for days—preferably if they were wrapped naked in some bed sheets. <em>Hell, knock it off, John. She asked about you, now you gotta figure out what to tell her. </em></p><p>Hancock floundered for something to say. He hoped that by stalling Nora with questions and small talk, that he might pluck up the courage to come clean, or think up some harmless lie or half-truth to offer her in place of the shitty reality. He still couldn’t decide which would be worse—lying, or telling her the truth.</p><p>“Sounds like a freaky time to be alive” he continued. “How’d people figure it out? I mean, I hear there are rules.”</p><p>She pulled her hand back, flexing it open and closed as she spoke. “I don’t remember all the fine details, just pieces of what they taught us in school. Med-Tek volunteered to run a study, but there was a war going on and people needed medical supplies, so some private company ended up taking it on instead. After about a year of research, they learned most of what we know now. Not long after they hit a wall and people just became okay with not knowing the rest.”</p><p>Hancock nodded, fixated by the way her mouth moved as she talked. “So you never had one before, huh?”</p><p>She shook her head. “No. Neither did my husband.”</p><p>Hancock gave her a sideways glance as he flicked ash off his cigarette. “Sounds like the kind of thing that could put a damper on a relationship. He still around?” He already knew the answer.</p><p>“No, he died in the vault.”</p><p>“Sorry to hear that, sunshine.”</p><p>Nora furrowed her brow, suddenly puzzled. “It’s strange. I just now realized that I haven’t thought of him in a long while. Like I woke up and…a lot had changed, and there was so much to process. I mean I thought of him, sure, but I never—” she stopped suddenly, blinking away the thought. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to listen to a stranger go on about their dead husband.”</p><p>Hancock held out a staying hand. “Hey, I asked didn’t I? I can listen if you want to talk, but only if you wanna talk about it.” He offered her a crooked smile, willing his heart to stop melting at the look she was giving him. His mark was burning again, but it wasn’t painful or irritating like before. It felt welcoming now, like a warm bath, or facing a bonfire on a cold night. Was she feeling this too? She had to be. The connection felt undeniable, like he was being swallowed whole by her presence, basking in the experience of just being with her.</p><p>She smiled at him, bashful. “I’m sorry, have we met before? Or maybe I bumped my head when I fell? I’m not usually the type to dump my life story on complete strangers.”</p><p>“Just spunky reporters and mayors, right?”</p><p>“Only the good-looking ones” she said, a devilish twinkle in her eye that made Hancock’s legs feel numb. “By the way,” she continued “you never answered my question. Do you know anything about him? John McDonough?”</p><p>Hancock fought the urge to wince, making a show of gazing off in the distance, eyes narrowed like he was thinking. “John McDonough, hmm…” <em>Tell her you fucking coward</em>. “Got anything to go on besides a name?” <em>Damnit chickenshit, quit stalling and just say it. </em></p><p>Nora bit her lip. “Well, this is going to sound strange, but I’ve had dreams about him. Not like normal dreams, much more vivid. I’ve heard that can happen with soulmates.” She looked at him, maybe expecting him to laugh. He tried to look like he was listening intently, all while he desperately gulped down the anxiety festering in his throat. Had she dreamt about him? Did that mean she already know who he was? Was she testing him, trying to see if he’d tell the truth?</p><p>She continued. “If what I saw was really him, then I can say he’s thin and pale, with blonde curly hair, tied back usually, and—” she paused, meeting Hancock’s gaze “blue eyes.”</p><p>Hancock took a drag of his cigarette, wishing away that reflection in the mirror he used to hate so much. “Doesn’t sound like anyone I know” he managed. A half-truth. After all, he didn’t know that John anymore.</p><p>“Wait, there’s more” she pressed. “He used to live in an old house on the waterfront with his parents and his brother, but it might be abandoned now, and I think…I think his brother is Guy McDonough”</p><p>Hancock felt his jaw click. Their old house on the beach. Mom and Dad. The scum he used to call his brother. She’d really seen all that?</p><p>“Didn’t know McDonough had a brother.” <em>Now you’re just lying, Hancock.</em></p><p>Nora placed a hand on her hip. “Maybe he doesn’t, but that’s what I saw. I tried to ask him about it myself, when I first went to Diamond City, but I hadn’t made the connection yet, so I didn’t think to press the issue.”</p><p>“So, what did Diamond City’s illustrious mayor have to say?”</p><p>She looked down at her cigarette. “He told me John McDonough was dead.”</p><p>Hancock fought the urge to laugh. Guy <em>would</em> say that, the fucking brahmin. He wasn’t exactly wrong. After all, John McDonough had bowed out of the Commonwealth a long time ago. But still, what a lying sack of crap. <em>As if you aren’t lying to her face right now, hypocrite</em>.</p><p>When Hancock didn’t answer right away, Nora pressed on, hand trembling as she brought her cigarette to her lips. “But I feel like he isn’t, you know? I always heard that you can tell when your soulmate dies, and I don’t feel that. It’s crazy, but I get these impressions every now and then.” She paused to inhale. “I think he’s still alive somewhere.”</p><p>Hancock twisted his cigarette between his fingers, anxious. “So what’s your goal here? You looking to find the guy?”</p><p>She nodded. “Yes. It’s not top priority right now, but I want to try.”</p><p>Hancock studied her as she stood there, chewing her lip as she gazed down at the floorboards. He couldn’t blame the gal for being curious about her soulmate—hell, he’d spent half his life thinking about Nora before he’d even met her. So why not come out and say it? She was looking for him, after all. Couldn’t be any harm in just telling her the truth, then they could see where things went from there. Better than lying and trying to explain himself later…</p><p>No. He wasn’t ready for it, not yet. He didn’t feel great about lying, especially to someone who had just laid it all out on the table for him, but he needed time to think this over with a clear head, get his own shit together before dragging her into it. Besides, other than what he read in the <em>Publick</em> he didn’t know dick about Nora. Soulmate or no, they were still strangers. He needed time to figure her out a bit.</p><p>“I’ll tell you what, Sunshine—how long you planning to stay in Goodneighbor?”</p><p>She shrugged. “A few days more at least. Maybe longer?”</p><p>He pulled himself up to his full, mayoral height, brow furrowed with determination. “In that case, I’ll put my feelers out, see what I can tell you about your mystery guy. If I find anything, I’ll come find you. Just send word if you decide to leave town for a while, so I don’t have to go on a wild goose chase looking for you. You staying at the Rexford?”</p><p>She perked up. “Yeah, got a room on the top floor. Wow, this is—you’d really do that for me?”</p><p>The spark of hope in her eyes had Hancock feeling bold, so he reached out to place a chaste hand on her shoulder, relishing in the heat of her as it sank into his skin. He swore he heard her breath hitch.</p><p>“Like I said before: Of the people, for the people sister. We freaks gotta stick together.”</p><p>She smiled up at him as he pulled his hand back. “Freaks, huh?”</p><p>Hancock chuckled as he crossed the hall, looking over his shoulder at her as he made his way to his office. “Ain’t nothing freakier than a 200-year-old gal looking good as you do, sunshine.”</p><p>Hancock saw her face soften before he turned away, resisting the urge to let his gaze linger just a little longer. There was a comfortable pause, followed by the creaking of stairs signaling her departure. Once her footsteps had faded, Hancock shrugged off his coat and collapsed on the moth-eaten couch, boots kicked up on the table in front of him. He paused for a moment, eyes glazed over as he watched rays of sunshine pour in through the broken window panes. Then, his face split into a wide grin, like the cat who ate the canary.</p><p>His mark was humming, content. She liked the compliment.</p><p>***</p><p>Nora’s hand wandered to her shoulder as she descended the staircase of the Old State House. The mayor’s touch had left her skin warm, buzzing, like a shot of whiskey on a chilly night. Her thoughts were swimming with him—the way those dark eyes had studied her, soaking her up like a sponge, a crystalline color shining beneath the filmy black surface, smooth sapphires submerged in oil. She saw herself reflected in that inky blackness, witnessed him witnessing her. It was…strange. Not dreamlike or ethereal, but hyper-focused, like a bright neon sign in her mind screaming at her to notice something—and with her skin all but screaming for her to pay attention, she did manage to notice a few things during her meeting with Goodneighbor’s zombie mayor.</p><p>First, Mayor Hancock had charisma, and he knew how to use it. Not just to draw attention to himself, but to get other people talking. He was gathering information on her as she spoke—the same way that lawyers were taught to collect personality cues when they met a client. He was asking questions he wanted answers to, sure. But he was more interested in what lay between the lines. Maybe he was suspicious of the strange vault dweller, or maybe Piper’s story had concerned him. Whatever the reason, Hancock had flagged her as someone to keep an eye on.</p><p>Second, Mayor Hancock was a flirt. He wasn’t exactly chasing tail like a hound dog, but Nora knew that look in his eye, like a cat ready to pounce—eyes hooded, shoulders leaned in towards her. He had been thinking about more than just soulmarks and vault-dwellers during their conversation. She didn’t necessarily mind. Had a younger, not-yet-married Nora been allowed to think about having a “type,” it might just be wiry-thin bad boys. The whole ghoul thing was new, but if he was still <em>intact</em>…</p><p><em>Nope, back that one up Nora. </em>She had more important things to focus on. After all, there was one last, very important thing she had noticed about Hancock.</p><p>He was a damn liar. </p><p>As much as he tried to hide it, Nora didn’t miss the look in his eyes the moment she mentioned John McDonough. It was a visceral reaction that usually warranted an immediate response, yet she had to ask him <em>twice</em>. You don’t change the subject like that unless you have something to hide. Besides, you’d think the mayor of Goodneighbor would have more to do than sit around and shoot the shit with strange vault-dwellers, yet he had pressed on and on with his questions every time she brought up John McDonough. He had avoided the issue for as long as he could, and she was sure that his answer wasn’t the whole story.</p><p>Unfortunately, Nora had nowhere near enough clout to confront the guy, and even if she did, she would need more than a gut feeling to go on if she wanted to wrench that information from him. Hell, with how the Watch kept tabs on things around here, asking too many questions around town would be more trouble than it was worth. After all, she didn’t know anything about John McDonough. He could be any number of things worse than dead. He had certainly looked at the end of his rope in her dream. Maybe he had done something horrible, or gotten mixed up with the worst kind of people. If Nora stuck her hand in this, there was a good chance she’d get bit bad.</p><p>Yet she couldn’t resist—she was going to get to the bottom of this.</p><p>Unsure who to trust in Goodneighbor, Nora decided to keep her soulmark to herself for the time being. She bought a roll of duct tape from Daisy so she could tape her hands—a familiar practice from her days at the boxing gym—and just generally kept her mouth shut from then on. She figured once her favorite synth detective was in town, she’d have a discreet conversation with him about the whole thing. There was no one she trusted more, and if anyone could track a guy down, it would be Nick.</p><p>***</p><p>Nora didn’t realize how much she had missed Nick until she recognized that old, faded trench coat strolling down the streets of Goodneighbor. She saw the silver crack of his mouth split into a smile when he recognized her. “Well, aren’t you are a sight for sore eyes doll. Who knew Goodneighbor would be the place for you to clean up?”</p><p>“The hot showers at the Rexford help, and I was able to find a hairbrush” she shook her head playfully, showing off the soft curls of her ponytail. </p><p>“Keep that up and the Institute won’t be a problem. You can just bat your eyelashes at them and they’ll give you whatever you want.”</p><p>She placed her hands on her hips. “And what if I want a good fight out of it?”</p><p>“Then you’ll blow them a kiss before you blow their brains out.”</p><p>Nora smiled. “It's good to see you, Nick. How’s Ellie?”</p><p>“Much better than she would have been if I’d left her to her own devices. But a couple night’s rest and we managed to break her fever. She’s doing just fine now.”</p><p>“That’s good to hear.”</p><p>Nick nodded. “So, you ready to go have that talk with Dr. Amari? Wouldn’t want to leave Kellogg’s brain sitting much longer.”</p><p>“Yeah, let’s go now!” She paused. “Well, I actually have to run back to my hotel room—I have the brain sitting in the fridge. I’ll meet you at Amari’s?”</p><p>Nick tipped his fedora in affirmation before making his way to the Memory Den.</p><p>***</p><p>“Dr. Amari?” Nick called out down the empty stairwell.</p><p>A familiar face poked it’s head through the doorway. “Valentine? Is that you? It’s been ages!”</p><p>“Yeah, sorry I haven’t had time for house calls lately. Diamond City has been keeping me busier than usual.”</p><p>“I can imagine. So, what brings you here today?”</p><p>Nick placed his bad hand in his pocket. “I’ve actually got a client joining me in a bit. Well, a friend really. Gal’s looking for her son. Might’ve seen her around town. Young redhead, wears a vault suit.”</p><p>Amari’s face fell. “Ah, so you know Nora.”</p><p>“Yes I—why the long face, Doc? Did something happen?”</p><p>Amari fixed the synth with a serious look. “Well, she made quite the entrance. Apparently there was a scuffle at the front gates, and the mayor got involved. Ended with him rushing her to my office”</p><p>Nick lit a cigarette. “What happened?”</p><p>Amari gave him a wary look. “Well, the mayor introduced himself, and their meeting resulted in physical contact, so she fainted.”</p><p>Nick forgot to blow the smoke out, leaving it to bleed from the hole in his neck. “I’m not following.”</p><p>“So you don’t know?”</p><p>“Enlighten me.”</p><p>Amari’s lips thinned. “Well, I assumed you already did, but…far be it from me to keep it from you, of all people. Nora has a soulmark.”</p><p>Nick nodded. “I knew that much, but I only ever caught a glimpse of it. Wait, Doc, are you saying that—”</p><p>Amari put a finger to her lips, her voice falling to a whisper. “She doesn’t know, and Hancock doesn’t want her to.”</p><p>“How the hell is he going to keep that secret? He’s the mayor of Goodneighbor and his <em>name</em> is printed on her.”</p><p>“But she doesn’t think John Hancock is her soulmate. John McDonough is.”</p><p>Nick paused. “I see.”</p><p>“Nick, you know just as well as I do what that man has been through.”</p><p>He nodded, golden eyes distant as he thought aloud. “She never gave me her last name, so I didn’t think to make the connection. Yet there she was all along, Nora Duchesne.” He paused. “Still kept her file handy, just in case. Thought I was looking for a grave, or a few surviving relatives. Never even dreamed that she’d just show up on my doorstep. Can’t imagine how Hancock is processing all this.”</p><p>Amari’s eyes pleaded. “Swear you won’t tell her. Even if she asks.”</p><p>Nick smiled. “She’s smart, Doc—smarter than you’d like sometimes. She’ll figure it out eventually.” He paused to snuff out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. “But don’t worry. I can keep a secret. Better they figure it out themselves anyway, and on their own terns.”</p><p>The clunk of footsteps on the floor above drew both their attentions.</p><p>“Ah,” Nick exclaimed. “Speak of the devil.”  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you to everyone who leaves kudos and comments--your feedback motivates me to continued fleshing out this story and putting words to the page. </p><p>Stay healthy out there!</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Test the Waters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a strange day in Goodneighbor for Nick Valentine. The old synth had seen so many old faces, none as familiar as they once were. He used to greet the towns tangle of wet smog like an old friend, but after the noodle incident, he had enough to keep him busy in Diamond City. Now this rugged neighborhood, its grimy cobblestones and dark alleyways, felt completely alien.</p><p>Especially strange was walking into the Old State House. Nick hadn’t been in that old relic since Hancock took over Goodneighbor. Place didn’t look like much on the inside—all creaky floorboards and cobwebs bunched up in corners—but the detective supposed that only spoke to Hancock’s devotion to the ghouls and drifters of the Commonwealth. With the amount of caps flowing through Goodneighbor, Hancock could have easily turned this place into a drug-lover’s paradise draped in thick velvet curtains and beautiful women. Instead, the yawning space was practically empty, apart from a few sparsely-stocked supply closets and a slew of mattresses scattered across the rotting floorboards. As Nick crossed the threshold of Hancock’s office, he noted that Hancock didn’t even own a proper bed. The ghoul probably slept on the floor with the other drifters, or stretched out on the moth-eaten couch pushed against the wall. Clearly, he took this “of the people” shtick seriously.</p><p>It was there on that worn-out couch that Nick found the mayor of Goodneighbor, splayed out and alone in, his hat over his face. The only source of light that evening was the winking red glow of a neon sign across the street. When its glow filled the room, Nick could see a collection of chems scattered across the nearby coffee table.  </p><p>“I gotta say, John, I like what you’ve done with the place” Nick said by way of greeting.</p><p>The ghoul stirred from his hazy trance, mouth fuzzy around his response. “Wait a sec, is that—” he lifted his hat, “Nick Valentine! It’s been—a shit, I don’t know how long it’s been. How is my favorite dinged-up detective? Come in, make yourself comfortable.” The ghoul motioned to a rickety chair, which Nick politely refused.</p><p>Nick couldn’t help but smile, pushing his bad hand into his pocket as the ghoul clambered up from the sofa, a sedated look in his eyes. It was good to see John again.</p><p>“Aside from a few lose screws, not so bad. I see you’re taking the evening off.” He lowered his gaze to the beer bottles and jet canisters littering the floor, aglow in the neon red.</p><p>Hancock stretched his arms over his head. “I was just enjoying a little nightcap, but now that you’re here I’m wide awake. What can I do for the Commonwealth’s great detective?” He adjusted his hat on his head, eyes suddenly sharp, as if he had flipped a switch to dissolve his high, just like that.</p><p>Nick’s mouth fell into a flat line. “Well, I was in the neighborhood, so to speak. Thought I’d make a house call.”</p><p>Hancock crossed his arms, leaning back to sit on the arm of his sofa. “Glad you did. But c’mon Nick, don’t need your detective work to see you’re interested in more than just chatting. Let’s skip the pleasantries and get straight to business.”</p><p>Nick eyes lifted, surprised. It seemed the unsure young man he once knew was nowhere to be found in this neighborhood. “That obvious, am I?”</p><p>“Mayor’s gotta have eyes and ears in his own town, right? You’ve been ‘in the neighborhood’ plenty of times without stopping by.”</p><p>Nick didn’t respond, golden eyes glowing orange in the red-dark.</p><p>Hancock continued, unphased by Nick’s silence. “So tell me, Valentine, what brings you to my office this evening?”  </p><p>Nick let out a weak laugh, if only to ease his own tension. “Observant as ever. Well since you asked, I’m in town visiting a friend of mine. We had business to tend to with Dr. Amari.” He paused, studying the ghoul’s face with interest. “You might know the gal, actually—hear she’s already gotten quite the reputation on this side of the Commonwealth.”</p><p>Hancock’s eyes narrowed, black eyes shining magma-red in the dim. “Does she now?”</p><p>“Couldn’t miss her. Looks quite the dame, but packs a punch. Red hair, vault suit, goes by the name <em>Nora Duchesne</em>.” He leaned into those last words, his tone almost accusatory.</p><p>Hancock’s face fell immediately. Caught red-handed, the ghoul reached up to rub his neck. “Shit. Yeah alright, listen Nick I—” he stopped, mouth opening and closing as he fought to find  the words. They didn’t come.</p><p>“So you know?” Nick asked.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Does she?”</p><p>There was an uncomfortable silence. Hancock collapsed backwards onto the couch, his legs slung over the armrest, face unreadable in the dark. “C’mon Valentine, you know the whole sob story, I’ve gone over it with you a thousand times. We looked, didn’t find anything, and decided it was time to bury her and move on.”</p><p>He paused to run a hand over his mouth, as if in thought. “Everything after that just sucked, a lot, but I pushed through it. Even forgot about her for a while. I got my act together—well, sort of. Now here I am, years after all that mess, and my mark starts burning. Damn thing’s only ever been cold before, but suddenly it was red hot and ‘bout as easy to ignore as a Molotov to the face.”</p><p>Nick raised his eyebrows at that. Hancock continued: “Then she just shows up out of the blue. I mean jeez, it’s—it’s complicated, alright? How do you even start that conversation? I mean, it must be hard enough for your regular soulmate pair, but fuck Nick I thought she was <em>dead</em>. Then I find out she’s from a different century?” He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, frustrated. “To make matters worse, she came around earlier today asking about it, caught me completely off guard. And…shit Nick, I didn’t know what to tell her.”</p><p>“Did it occur to you that she might have already known?” Nick pressed.</p><p>Hancock threw his hands up. “I don’t know, maybe? I can’t exactly keep a cool head around her. I mean goddamnit, Nick she’s fucking gorgeous. Fierce too. Gutted a guy in the middle of the street before I even had a chance to say hi.”</p><p>Nick nodded. “Yeah, I heard about Finn.”</p><p>Hancock rested an arm on his forehead, gaze distant. “She’s everything I ever dreamed of.”</p><p>“Any idea why she came to talk to you?”</p><p>“She was asking what I knew about John McDonough.”</p><p>“What did you tell her?”</p><p>Hancock paused, his voice coming out weak with shame. “I told her I’d look into it for her.”</p><p>Nick sighed, hand reaching for a cigarette. “You know, John, your old namesake isn’t exactly a secret ‘round here. And from what she told me, Nora gets along with plenty of folks around Goodneighbor. Daisy, Claire—any of them could point you out. Hell, there are still plenty of people in Diamond City who know that old name, and I don’t just mean me. Sooner or later she’ll come back up here to find her liar of a soulmate laying around in a drugged-up stupor.”</p><p>Hancock’s brow furrowed, eyes stinging. “C’mon man, that’s not fair. I mean, fuck Nick I had a <em>soulmate</em>, then I had to bury her along with everyone else I knew, and that was all <em>before</em> turning fucking ghoul.” </p><p>“And who’s fault was that?”</p><p>John stood up, knuckles popping as it hands balled into fists. “Hey now, I never said I didn’t do it to myself. It’s been a rough ten years, <em>detective</em>.”</p><p>Nick sighed, stung by the familiarity of the ghoul’s indignation. “I know none of it has been easy John, but that was then. Now Nora’s alive, and you’ve got a woman looking for answers. Looking for <em>you</em>.” Nick fixed him with a stare, orange light piercing the gloom. “She’s smart Hancock. She may be new to the wasteland, but she can read most people like yesterday’s newspaper. You’re not fooling her for long. Besides, you’ve seen yourself what she thinks of lying conmen.”  </p><p>Hancock winced at that, the memory of Finn plain on his face. “So you think she could already know?”</p><p>Nick paused to think before he answered. “No, not yet, but she won’t be in the dark for long. Once she sets her mind to something, she’s not the type to give up easily. She’s a stubborn one.” Nick paused, taking in the mix of emotions tugging at the ghoul’s brow. He slipped his exposed metal hand into his pocket. “Look, I’m not one to order people around, but I’ve got eyes and so do you. We both know you can’t lie around and avoid this thing forever, even if it scares that hell out of ya.”</p><p>Hancock chuckled. “You have no idea.”</p><p>They fell silent, their voices replaced by the distant buzzing of that neon sign, the rumble of a generator.</p><p>“Tell me, John,” Nick broke the silence, “five years ago you would’ve killed for a chance to meet that woman. Had me looking under every piece of rubble in the Commonwealth trying to find her. You were head over heels about a gal you haven’t even met. Now she’s here in the flesh and suddenly you don’t seem to want much to do with her. What, she not your type?”</p><p>Hancock straightened at that. “What? Of course not. I mean, jeez Nick she’s <em>perfect</em>. It’s just…listen, you ever had the same dream over and over before?”</p><p>“Synths don’t dream” he answered flatly.</p><p>Hancock waved a hand at him. “Yeah, well play along then. So you have this dream every night, right? And it feels real, but you know it ain’t because you keep waking up. So no matter how good or bad the dream feels, you have to tell yourself that it doesn’t mean anything, because it ain’t real, no matter how much you want it to be. Now imagine that one day you woke up from the dream, and it was all just there, like BAM. So here you are with this sky-high fantasy you’ve created, and now you have to figure out how to become worthy of this perfect thing, all while figuring out that now it’s <em>real</em>, which means you can actually mess it up. But messing it up isn’t an option, because the dream will never feel the same after that. But if you mess up the real thing, you have to face the fact that you were never really worthy of it.”  </p><p>Nick nodded, chewing on Hancock’s words. “Sounds like a lot of worry over something you don’t have much control over.”</p><p>John sat up suddenly. “I’ve never pretended to have control over anything before Goodneighbor.” He made a broad sweeping gesture. “<em>This</em> is the first thing I ever felt like I did right, like I really had a handle on. For the first time in my life I feel like things are going good, then she shows up and I feel like it’s all going to go to shit again, because you can’t control a <em>person</em>.” His face fell suddenly, a sad look in his eye. “I mean, what if I step up to the plate just to find out she doesn’t want me? I’d have to figure out how to bury her all over again.” He tore his gaze away, avoiding Nick’s gaze. “I don’t know if I could do it” he finished weakly.</p><p>Nick paused. He wished he had a little more Valentine and less synth reject to bring to the table here. Had that Valentine even been the type to give life advice? Relationship advice? If he did, those memories never transferred over.</p><p>He sighed. “Listen, Hancock, she’s your damn soulmate and she’s looking for you. I know that a soulmark doesn’t guarantee anything in a relationship, but that doesn’t mean they’re nothing either. You’re driving yourself crazy holed up here, so do yourself a favor and talk to her. Have a little faith in fate.”  </p><p>There was a long stretch of silence. Nick was starting to think the ghoul had fallen asleep when he finally croaked out an answer. “How do I tell her Nick?”</p><p>“Well, lying to her wasn’t exactly a good start.”</p><p>“Thanks, good talk.”</p><p>If Nick could roll his eyes, he would. “Alright, fine. Listen, I’ve spent enough time with Nora to know she’s a compassionate woman. If you explain yourself honestly, she might be more understanding than most.”</p><p>“Oh, well in that case—Hey Nora, I’ve bene fantasizing about you since puberty, try not to think about the implications of that. Anyways, want to run away with a raisin-faced ghoul? Promise my nipple won’t fall off on ya’ during sex.”</p><p>Nick raised a brow. “You’re worried she won’t love a ghoul?”</p><p>Hancock waved a hand at that. “Nah, most people come ‘round after a bit. I’m just, well—shit Valentine, you know the whole sad story. The damage goes a lot deeper than a little rough skin.”</p><p>Nick shook his head. “Give yourself some credit John, and Nora too. She was zapped 200 years into a radiated future to find that her husband was dead and her baby was missing. You think she doesn’t know something about being trauma after all she’s been through?”</p><p>Hancock didn’t answer.</p><p>“She’s pretty open-minded and…well, complex.”</p><p>Hancock let out a cynical laugh. “Well makes sense. None of it has ever been simple.”</p><p>Nick ignored the comment. “At least try working your way up to the conversation. You should talk to her again when you get the chance.” He paused. “You know, she had a bit of a rough day today. Our meeting with Amari didn’t exactly leave her feeling optimistic. She could use something to take her mind off things, or someone to talk to. Saw her slip into the Third Rail on my way here, if you want to test the waters.”</p><p>Hancock regarded the synth with an unsure glance, eyes swimming with worry in the glow of neon. In that moment, it struck Nick how vulnerable Hancock must feel, how young it made him look, this insecure man worrying about a crush. Nick could almost place that look on a more familiar face—one with smoother skin.</p><p>Nick pushed away the thought, pulling the collar of his trench coat over his exposed throat. “Listen, I have to get back to Diamond City. Think about what I said, just not for too long.” He smiled. “She’s a bit of a lightweight.”</p><p>Nick turned around, making his way across the threshold of the office. He stopped as he reached the staircase, turning around to fix Hancock with a golden gaze. “She likes whiskey, neat.”</p><p>Nick turned away without another word, unsurprised by Hancock’s lack of response or farewell.</p><p>As the synth made his way down the smoggy, lamp-lit streets of Goodneighbor, his metal skin impervious to the damp chill in the air, he caught a glimpse of a red frock coat disappearing like a phantom down the stairway to the Third Rail.</p><p>***</p><p>Hancock greeted the familiar sight of the Third Rail with an unusual case of nerves. He was hardly one to feel so anxious on his own turf, yet entering Goodneighbor’s cozy little cave of smoke and jazz felt strangely like walking across enemy lines. Every sound felt significant, every lingering gaze meaningful—as if the whole town was in on his little secret. Even Magnolia’s croon felt suggestive, as if sung with a wink and a smile that said “oh I know.” Despite the turning in his gut, Hancock managed to greet his neighbors with his usual demeanor. He’d throw them a quip and a tip of the hat per usual, but his eyes were scrambling across the room for a hint of ginger hair, or that telltale shade of vault-suit blue.</p><p>Hancock caught sight of his target at the far end of  the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey—no ice, like Valentine said. He wouldn’t have noticed her if he hadn’t known to look. She had traded her vault suit for a plain white t-shirt and jeans. She could have looked like just another drifter, but the tumble of rust-colored curls down her back gave her away. He’d recognize that orange halo anywhere.  </p><p>Hancock took a deep breath, adjusting his hat and pulling open the dingy-white lapel of his ruffled shirt just so before approaching the bar on the opposite end from where she sat. Whitechapel Charlie took no time reaching him.</p><p>“Evening, guv. You here for business or pleasure tonight?” the limey robot ground out, one of his robotic arms wiping a glass with a filthy rag.</p><p>“Bit of column A, bit of column B.” Hancock leaned forward, his voice a low whisper. “What’s our vault princess been up to?”</p><p>Charlie paused to reach for a bottle on the high shelf behind him before murmuring a discreet response. “Wandered in here like a lost pup earlier this week. Asked a lot of boring questions, took a job. Saw her go in to have a chat with the little weasel in the back, but doesn’t look like anything came of it. He’s still back there brooding in his bottle as usual. Besides that, she’s just been ordering drinks.”</p><p>Hancock furrowed his brow as Charlie pushed a glass of amber liquid towards him. So she had a chat with McCready. He wondered what for.</p><p>“Order our gal a whiskey,” he said, reaching for his own glass. “Make it neat, top shelf. Tell her it’s from me.”</p><p>Charlie whirred away without a word, arms busying themselves with bottles and glasses. Hancock fought to keep his gaze straight ahead, resisting the urge to look down the bar for her reaction. He didn’t want to look like some simpering kid in puppy-dog love. He needed some semblance of control here or he’d lose his mind.  </p><p>Like clockwork, Hancock heard Charlie’s mumbling through the crowd, followed not long after by the scrape of a barstool and footsteps on the grimy subway tile. He fought the urge to turn his head and stare as an orange-haloed angel approached him from across the bar.  </p><p>“Thanks for the drink.”</p><p>The ghoul swallowed hard before turning to meet her gaze, electric blue eyes piercing the butterflies in his stomach. He raised his glass, struggling to come of casual. “Don’t mention it. I like to treat our guests. All part of being a good neighbor.” He threw the drink back and clacked the empty glass on the bar.</p><p>Nora set her full glass down besides his, leaning against the bar to face him. His heart hammered as he fought to meet her gaze. Fuck, she wasn’t wearing a bra under her white t-shirt.  </p><p>“Ah, so you treat all the ladies this way?”</p><p>Hancock’s heart skipped, and he was suddenly very glad to have the bar there for support. She was flirting. Playful, or genuine? Would he be playing with fire if he flirted back? Was he ready for that yet? Nick had told him to work up to it. Fuck, what would he do with any other woman? Never mind the fact that this wasn’t <em>just </em>any other woman.</p><p>He turned his body to face her, elbow resting on the bar. “Depends. You looking to be treated, sister?”</p><p>She smiled up at him as she lifted her glass to her lips. “What lady doesn’t like to be treated? I wonder though, what kind of trouble I’d get you in for accepting special treatment from the mayor.” She knocked her own glass back and set it deliberately next to his, mirroring him. “Are you a man of morals, Mayor Hancock?</p><p>Hancock chuckled nervously. “I don’t know what Charlie’s been serving you, but we aren’t the type to talk too philosophically about morality in Goodneighbor.”</p><p>She furrowed her brow at him, coy in her response. “What about what you said before—‘of the people, for the people.’ Isn’t that a statement on morality?”</p><p>“There’s morals, and then there’s justice. I’m more interested in the latter.”</p><p>She returned a questioning smile. “And justice has nothing to do with morals?”</p><p>Hancock patted the stool next to him, and to his shock, she sat down without protest. “Well, since you asked sunshine,” he breathed in, searching for the Mayor Hancock among the mess of John McDonough this gal had awoken in him. “morals are for people who just wanna talk about what to do without really doing anything. Justice is for men of action. I like talking as much as anyone, but at the end of the day you gotta let your actions speak for themselves, or all that talk don’t mean a thing.”  </p><p>She paused, studying him. “Why do you call me that?”</p><p>“Call you what?”</p><p>“Sunshine.”</p><p>Hancock turned to his glass. Charlie had refilled it when they weren’t looking. He knocked back another shot without hesitation, hoping it would give him time to think of an answer.</p><p>She smiled at his attempt to stall. “Don’t tell me that’s what you call all the girls. It’s original, but I’ve had enough of all that ‘doll’ and ‘sweetheart’ business to last a lifetime.” She fixed him with a “try me” stare. Damn, was she stunning.</p><p>He waved a dismissive hand at her, partly in an attempt to shake his nerves. “Nah, it ain’t like that. Just seemed to suit ya, what with you coming in and taking care of Finn like that. Anyone who’s willing to take out the trash is a ray of sunshine if you ask me.” </p><p>Her smile fell, and silence formed between them, thick with the hum of the crowd and the perfume aroma of Magnolia’s voice wafting through in the air. Hancock swallowed hard. She was studying him with those big blues, the smell of alcohol faint on her breath. Was Valentine yanking his chain when he said she was a lightweight?</p><p>“So what’s your story, Hancock?”</p><p>John forced what he hoped would look like a confident smile, despite his sweaty palms and quickened pulse. This, at least, he’d rehearsed plenty of times before. “Ah yes, my favorite subject,” he purred, turning his body to face her head on.</p><p>He gave her the usual spiel, starting with what had happened in Diamond City, how he’d left one tyrant for another when he came to Goodneighbor, and how the drifters had banded together to take down Vic and his men. He left out the part about McDonough being his brother. He also opted to gloss over his chem-induced transition—not that him being a newly-wrinkled ghoul would necessarily give away his little secret. He just couldn’t bring himself to mention it right now.</p><p>She nodded along as he spoke, and asked plenty of questions, mostly about ghouls—how were they treated? What did people think of them nowadays? Were they really immortal? She stepped carefully around her questions, like she was afraid of offending him. It was clearly a new, and maybe slightly uncomfortable subject for her. But, she had yet to gag or make any disgusted faces at him, so that was something.</p><p>It had already been late in the evening when Hancock slunk into the Third Rail, but they still managed to talk for at least an hour, maybe more. Hancock couldn’t tell. Time neither flew nor stopped when he was around her, it just ceased to exist.</p><p>The bar had nearly emptied out by the time Nora, all red cheeks and slurred words, started to eye the door. “I really should getting back to the Rexford, I’m supposed to meet Macready to run a job tomorrow morning.”</p><p>Hancock raised a brow. “Macready huh? Heard the weasel was looking for work. What kinda job?”</p><p>Nora made a face at the nickname. “I met a ghoul named Kent Connolly at the Memory Den today. He asked me to go pick up some things for him at this old comic book store a few blocks away.”</p><p>“Ah, good old Kent. Chatted you up with all that Silver Shroud business?”</p><p>She let out a tipsy giggle. “It was kind of cute.”</p><p>Hancock gave her a crooked smile. She was an adorable drunk. Not to mention, her chest bounced behind that white fabric whenever she laughed. Everything about her was so light and soft, it made his skin tingle. “Got a soft spot for ghouls, huh? Good to know.”</p><p>She leaned forward to give him a playful swat, almost losing her balance when she did. Hancock was quick to grab her elbow to keep her from falling off her stool. “Damn sister, we do need to get you home. Here, let me walk you.”</p><p>“I’m perfectly capable of walking myself” she slurred as Hancock stood up.</p><p>“If you were sober, I’d believe you. C’mon, I ain’t trying any funny business. Just let me get you to the front door.”</p><p>She met his eyes with a drunk, hazy glance before nodding in agreement. “Yeah, okay. Help me up the stairs, will you?</p><p>***</p><p>It was pouring rain when the two of them emerged from the old subway stairs. Without a second thought, Hancock shrugged off his coat and pulled it over her head.</p><p>“But you’ll freeze!” she protested.</p><p>“A little chill won’t bother me. It’s another one of those ghoul things. Besides, the rain will soak right through that shirt of yours. Wouldn’t want to give folks the wrong idea.”</p><p>She wrinkled her nose at him, tugging the lapels of his coat snug around her. “You have a white shirt on too.”</p><p>“What can I say, I’m an exhibitionist.” He offered her his elbow. “C’mon, you’ll catch your death out here. I’d hate to put Macready out of the job. Guy needs the caps.”</p><p>They walked to the Rexford in silence, boots splashing heavy in the deep puddles that had already accumulated on the cobblestones, slick and colorful in the neon light.</p><p>When they reached the front door of the hotel, Nora returned Hancock’s coat with a smile. “Hey, thanks for the conversation. I needed it today.”</p><p>Hancock smiled. “I had a hunch.” He paused. “Hey, be careful at the comic book store alright? Heard the place is running with ferals. Wouldn’t want you to come outta there looking as pretty as me.”</p><p>“Pretty as you, huh?” Her smile fell as she looked up at him. For a moment, she looked like she was about to ask him something, but the question must have been lost in her drunken haze.</p><p>“Goodnight, Hancock” was all she said before slipping through the door of the Hotel Rexford.</p><p>Hancock stood there in the rain, hands clutching his dripping coat. Her smell had already clung to it, despite the rain. He felt a stupid, puppy-dog smile spread across his face. “Goodnight, sunshine.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey friends, thank you so much for reading! Be sure to leave kudos and comments, I love seeing your responses. As always, I feedback is so important to me, and much appreciated. </p><p>Apologies that there has been such a gap since my last update. I had been a bit stuck on this chapter for a while, then all of my end-of-semester deadlines started approaching and I had to put this on the back burner. Now that I'm done for the spring semester, I have a solid month to myself before summer classes start, so I'm going to have more time to write. </p><p>Stay safe, stay healthy, and take care off yourselves out there!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Order to the Chaos</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ugh, it bled on me.”</p><p>Nora blanched at the sight of what was almost certainly more than just blood from the feral ghouls inhabiting the first floor of Hubris Comics. Mixed into the red slick, she could see bits of flesh and what might even be brain matter splattered across the front of her vault suit. Two months ago, the smell alone would have made her gag. Now she merely winced and accepted that she would smell like rotting flesh for a while.  </p><p>She pulled down the sleeve of her suit to wipe a splotch of gooey viscera off her chin, then spun around quickly at the sound of a gunshot. Her shoulders tensed, then relaxed at the sight of Maccready, his rifle pointed at one of the fallen ferals.</p><p>“Well you can relax <em>now</em>, since I took the liberty of checking for you” the wiry mercenary scowled, motioning with his gun to the corpse at his feet.</p><p>She frowned. “I hit them all in the head with a baseball bat. With <em>nails</em> in it. That one’s head came clean off.” She used her swatter to point to the feral nearest her, it’s head clearly detached.  </p><p>“Can’t be too careful” he responded in a clipped tone. “Greenhorns like you are the reason I demand pay up front.”</p><p>Nora huffed a sigh, resting her bat on her shoulder as she took a turn about the room. “Well, Hancock said there would be ferals” she muttered, studying an Unstoppables poster on the wall—the peeling fade of the familiar unfamiliar.</p><p>“I thought Kent gave you the job” Maccready called out, voice muffled as he squatted down to sift through a crate of moldy comics.</p><p>Nora slipped behind the register, checking the shelves for salvageable scrap or supplies. “He did.”</p><p>Maccready only grunted in response, busy squinting at the faded cover art of a Grognak comic.</p><p>Nora busied herself behind the counter, debating whether or not Maccready would be a good person to press with questions about Hancock. The Mayor of Goodneighbor had stuck to her mind like glue since their encounter at the Third Rail. Even if he was a strange guy, ghoulishness aside, She found it odd that her head was so keen to circle back to the man, like that test question you tell yourself to go back to, even though you know perfectly well that you don’t have the right answer. She knew her gut was trying to say something, but she couldn’t puzzle out what.</p><p>Maybe it had to do with the keen interest Hancock had taken in her from the moment she set foot in Goodneighbor. Despite the scene she caused fainting in the streets after killing a citizen right in front of him, he had been all honey-sweet and amiable whenever she spoke with him. At first she was convinced that the mayor was just one of those guys or maybe even a bit crazy, but then she saw the façade waver for the first time when she asked him about John McDonough. Even then, the spell was only broken for a moment, then he was back to his friendly smiles and that too-easy flirting her mother had always told her to avoid.</p><p>Although, the fact that her mother had warned against it was making it all the more satisfying and fun to flirt back.</p><p>Nora finished searching the cash register and turned around to consider the door directly behind her marked “employees only.” She jiggled the knob and found that it was locked.</p><p>“Need any help there, princess?” Maccready called from across the room, where he stood propped against the wall, thumbing through a comic that he couldn’t be bothered to look up from.</p><p>“Call me princess again and you’ll need some help” she clipped back.</p><p>A pause. “Sorry, boss.”</p><p>She squatted down, pulling a bobby pin from her hair and bending it with her teeth before jiggling it into the lock. After a few seconds, she heard a triumphant “click,” and the door swung open for her.</p><p>“Not bad for a princess, huh?” She said, flashing a smile.</p><p>“So you got a few tricks up your sleeve” Macready said, mildly surprised.</p><p>“Strict parents make sneaky kids” Nora replied, sticking the bobby pin back into the messy bun at the back of her head.</p><p>Maccready gave her a puzzled look. Maybe that wasn’t a thing people said anymore? “Well, you unwrapped the present, let’s see what’s inside.”</p><p>Nora peeked through the door, disappointed to see that the room was nothing but empty shelves and rotting cardboard boxes. They sifted through the boxes nonetheless, just in case Kent’s memorabilia was packed away among them. They spent a few minutes emptying their contents out on the floor, before silently agreeing to move on, leaving their mess behind them.</p><p>They made their way up the stairs, where they found a series of offices that they spent a considerable amount of time combing through carefully. “Anything that says ‘Silver Shroud,’ hold onto it. Even if we can’t find the costume, I don’t want to go back completely empty handed” Nora said as she tapped away at a terminal, flicking through a series of emails about a Silver Shroud TV show that had been in the works.</p><p>There was a moment of silence before Maccready responded, his back turned to her as he pulled open the drawer of a filing cabinet. “So you’re pretty friendly with the ghoul crowd in Goodneighbor.” It wasn’t a question.</p><p>Nora barely registered what he said, eyes focused on the green glow of the terminal screen. “What about it?”</p><p>Maccready shrugged. “Nothing, just making an observation. Vault-dwellers aren’t really the most open-minded people when it comes to that kind of thing. I’m just surprised I guess. Got a lot of ghouls where you come from?”</p><p>Nora shook her head. “No. First time I ever saw a ghoul outside of a fight was in Goodneighbor.”</p><p>“Man, took a liking to them pretty quick then.” His voice turned up in a suggestive tone.</p><p>Nora sat up straight, mind finally catching up. She felt heat rise to her chest as she turned around. “What are you getting at?”</p><p>Again, a shrug. “Well I mean, you let Kent send you on this wild goose chase, then you seemed pretty friendly when we stopped by Daisy’s on our way out of town.” He paused to lift the lid of a display case. “And it seemed you were having a pretty nice time with Hancock last night.”</p><p>Her mouth formed a firm line. “What, like he doesn’t buy drinks and schmooze with every other woman in Goodneighbor?”</p><p>Maccready seemed unfazed by the hint of ice in her voice. “I mean, not just the ladies.”</p><p>“Well at least he’s open-minded.” She turned resolutely back to the terminal, shoulders hunched as she started through another email.</p><p>Another pause from Maccready. “So how was it.”</p><p>Nora jolted. “Excuse me?”</p><p>“You know, was he any good?”</p><p>Her mouth fell open, eyes narrowed in disbelief at Maccready, who was too busy admiring a dusty shelf of action figures to notice the heat in her face.</p><p>“I mean, I’ve never jumped down that rabbit hole, probably never will. But still, always wondered if it was any different, uh, operatively speaking.”</p><p>“How would I know?” she snapped, finally drawing Maccready’s attention away from the action figures.</p><p>“What? They don’t talk about that stuff in the vault?”  </p><p>“I didn’t sleep with him” she clipped.</p><p>“Alright” he shrugged.</p><p>Silence again, broken intermittently by the nervous clicking of a keyboard.</p><p>“Not that I have anything against ghouls—”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“—but I don’t have a fetish either.”</p><p>“Mhmm.”</p><p>“And it’s not like I’m a prude. I just don’t like to talk about that sorta thing.”</p><p>“What, sex?”</p><p>“No, checkers.”</p><p>Maccready threw his hands up. “Alright, alright, jeez. Just trying to make conversation.”</p><p>Nora rolled her eyes before fixing him with a dead stare. “I paid you to help me find a suit and a gun, not quiz me on my sex life. So go make conversation somewhere else, preferably with any ghouls that might still be slinking around.”</p><p>Maccready gave her a strange look before lifting his rifle and punctuating their conversation with a compliant “yes Ma’am.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>
  <em>I did it John, it’s finally mine. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jesus Guy, are you out of your mind? Do you think running Diamond City means you run the whole goddamn world? </em>
</p><p><em>Of course it does. </em>This <em>is my world now, and it’s all here, right in the palm of my hand. </em></p><p>
  <em>It’s chaos out there you idiot. Nobody owns chaos. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You don’t know the half of it, brother. There is order to this chaos, I assure you. </em>
</p><p>Since when had Guy called him “brother?”</p><p>***</p><p>John’s eyes flew open, his jaw locked painfully from clenching his teeth as he slept. His hands flew to his face, scrubbing at his eyes in an attempt to wipe the dream from his mind. Teeth still pressed together, he squeezed his eyes in a grimace, trying to rub away the image of <em>that look</em> on his brother’s face, but stubbornly it remained, branded behind his eyelids as it had been since the day of Guy’s inauguration. Groaning in time with the creak of the sofa, he sat up straight and pulled open a curtain, willing the sunshine to purge the dream from his thoughts.</p><p>“Order my ass” he mumbled as he reached for a matchbook on the office coffee table, jamming a cigarette between his withered lips and striking a light. “Man in the ivory tower never sees the real chaos in the trees. Just the smoke.” Wasn’t that how Dad used to say it? Fuck, wouldn’t ol’ Pat be pissed if he was still alive to see this shit.</p><p>John had started rubbing his temples, cigarette fuming in his hand, when he heard on a knock on his door.</p><p>“Give me a second” he called out, voice bleary and agitated. The ghoul sat up, blinking away the morning light as he pulled on his pants. He reached for his hat on a nearby table, elbow smarting when he smacked it on the corner in his rush. He cursed the nightcap that tipped him into this morning’s hangover as staggered to his feet.</p><p>The ghoul had just finished tying his boots when the knocking came again, more insistent this time. “Alright, I’m coming, keep your shirt on” he replied, tying the knot on the flag around his waist before reaching to turn the lock and open his office door.</p><p>Hancock froze when his eyes met the gaze of his morning caller. At first, he regretted his decision to favor haste rather than taking the time to get fully dressed. He was naked from the waist up, other than his tricorn, which sat tilting sloppily on his head. He felt exposed, and not in a good way. He considered slamming the door shut and telling them to wait so he could get in full uniform. But then, Hancock’s insecurity fell to the wayside when his brain caught up with the sight before him. He looked up and down slowly, mouth agape, before meeting his guest’s gaze with an amused smile.</p><p>“You’re gonna have to explain this one to me, sunshine.”</p><p>Nora shifted her stance, hands seemingly balled into fists in the pocket of her long, black trench coat. Her ginger locks, tucked up into a smart fedora, stood out brilliant against the shades of silver and black. She cleared her throat before speaking.  </p><p>“I need to ask you a favor.”</p><p>Hancock raised an eyebrow. “What, is it’s Kent’s birthday?” His eyes fell to the buttons of her coat. “Or is this your idea of bribery? You know, it could always be <em>my </em>birthday.” He flashed her a devilish grin.</p><p>Nora made a face before pushing the mayor backwards into his office, shutting the door behind her in a huff. “Don’t start. This—” she gestured to her outfit “was all Kent’s idea. But that’s not why I’m here.”</p><p>Hancock’s hand flew instinctively to the spot on his chest where Nora had pushed, his skin suddenly warm and tingly from the contact. A soulmate thing? He attempted to shrug it off by reaching up to adjust his hat. “Alright, fill me in then. This I gotta hear.”</p><p>Nora, freckled cheeks all flushed rosy pink with embarrassment, pursed her lips at him, brow furrowed. “So Kent sends me on this job to dig up some old Shroud memorabilia for him. I took care of it, but now he’s paying me to do another job, and he insists I play the part.”</p><p>He considered playing it tame, but couldn’t resist. “Does Kent know me that well? Always had a thing for women in uniform.”</p><p>The look on her face was worth it. She looked stunning, all flustered like that. And did he detect a hint of a smile?</p><p>“Can we give the outfit a rest? Look, I need to find a guy named Wayne Delacey. Ring any bells?”</p><p>Hancock’s face fell. “Yeah, guy’s a scumbag. Whaddya want with him?”</p><p>“Where can I find him?” she pressed.</p><p>Hancock tapped the ash off his cigarette, voice suddenly serious. “Whoa whoa, I’m the mayor here, remembered? I don’t mind a little rough play, but when it comes to Goodneighbor I'm the one who calls the shots, ya feel?” He drew himself to his full height. “Don’t go keeping me in the dark. What’s Kent got cooked up here?”</p><p>Nora froze at that, as if suddenly remembering herself, before straightening up. “Remember what you told me, about taking out the trash? Well Kent seems to share a similar sentiment, and he’s got me on pickup duty.” She crossed her arms. “The job offer just happened to come with a uniform.”</p><p>Hancock nodded, taking a drag on his cigarette. “So, Kent’s got you cleaning up the town dressed up as the famous rogue vigilante himself, huh?”</p><p>Nora shrugged, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “Just because I’m wading through the muck doesn’t mean I can’t do it with some style.”</p><p>Hancock had to chuckle at that. “A woman after my own heart.” Nora met his gaze, blue eyes smiling at the black.</p><p>John rubbed at his chin, cigarette smoke snaking between his fingers as he thought. “Alright, I’m on board. You can usually find Delacey shooting up behind the Rexford this time of day. Rat of a guy, can’t miss him.”  </p><p>Nora considered him for a moment, eyes narrowing at his stare, before turning for the door. “Thanks. Keep me posted on McDonough. I’m still looking for leads. No luck yet.”</p><p>Hancock’s heart skipped a beat at that, fingers twisting his cigarette anxiously. Nick’s words echoed in his mind. Seeing as they were alone now…</p><p>“Hey sunshine, one more thing.”</p><p>She whipped around, a single ginger curl falling from where she had secured it under the black fedora. She sounded suddenly breathless. “Yes?”</p><p>Hancock met her glance, wishing that the ocean blue of her eyes would soothe more than they burned just then. Her name began to ache on his skin, and he could see her fist clench as if in response. She was feeling it too, but did she know why? Nick had said she was a smart gal. If she was staying in the Rexford, she had to have seen Delacey hanging around at some point. Hell, Kent could have pointed her right to him. Why had she really come up here? What made her think he would help her? As far as she knew, he was a wild card. Unless…</p><p><em>There is order to the chaos, I assure you</em>.</p><p>The vision burned behind his eyelids, and he lost his resolve. John lowered his gaze to the floorboards, worrying his cigarette between his teeth.</p><p>“Just…don’t get yourself killed out there.”</p><p>There was a moment of silence before she spoke. He didn't look up again until she left, but John could hear the smile in her response. “Don’t count on it. I’m not letting you off <em>that </em>easy.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Friendly reminder that Maccready has Big Sub Energy™</p><p>Thank you all so much for reading. Apologies that this chapter was on the short side, but I wanted to get the story moving forward. I've planned out the rest of this act, which will be the first of two in this fic. I'm hoping to wrap up act one in the next 3-5ish chapters, and hopefully before my summer classes start in mid-June (what can I say, I'm optimistic). </p><p>Honestly, the hardest part of writing this fic for me is NORA, because she is a relatively flat character by design (no shade here, it's part of the RPG mechanic of the game). Hancock's voice comes so easily to me, but I am always working on fleshing Nora out more, while still leaving room for other people's head canons. It's a tricky tightrope to tread, and I'm always making adjustments. So, if you have thoughts about Nora's characterization, I would love to hear them. </p><p>Your kudos and comments increase John and Nora's libido, and also give me life. </p><p>Stay healthy out there my friends!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Hey, you.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Going after Sinjin was a mistake.</p><p>She saw the barrel of a gun pressed into Kent’s skin, could practically feel the cool sting of gunmetal toeing the line between life and death. The look of terror in the ghoul’s eyes was unmistakable, his fear palpable in the air as Nora crossed the threshold of the elevator.</p><p>“C’mere Shroud! I want to talk to you.”</p><p>Nora approached gingerly, bat raised and ready to strike, her white knuckles stained with blood and shaking against the handle. The pad of Maccready’s wary footsteps followed, tense and alert. Her eyes darted around the room as she walked—one, two, three, four mercs with guns on them, and the fifth in Sinjin’s hand, pressed against Kent’s skull. They were surrounded. One wrong move and—</p><p>“That’s close enough!” Sinjin barked. “One more step and you’ll get to see what’s inside Kent’s head.”</p><p>Nora froze. A bead of sweat trickled down from the brim of her hat and into her eyes. She was too paralyzed to reach up and wipe it away, and her eyes stung, blinking frantically as they met Kent’s. The man was terrified, yet somehow resigned, as if he knew all along that it would end this way.</p><p>Sinjin’s gaze burned down at her as he spoke. “Look at you, Shroud. You think you’re some kinda legend, like you walked straight out of a comic book. But you and I both know you’re just another sorry human.”</p><p>Nora’s eyes flicked upwards, Sinjin’s ghoulish stare clenching fear at her insides. Her options were limited, and Sinjin knew it, it was written in his sick smile. Even if she could hold a gun straight enough to try to bring him down, she’d be shot in the head before she could even reach for a gun, and the same went for Maccready. Sinjin’s finger was on the trigger, ready to pull. One move, one twitch of a muscle, and Kent was toast. Her only option was to try to talk Sinjin down and negotiate. She would have to go for the amicable approach. </p><p>Her mind flashed through her law school studies, impossibly distant in this ruined hospital with four guns staring her down. She scrambled for some recollection of police protocol in hostage situations. Damnit, she wished she had been required to do more than just <em>read</em> about it.</p><p>Alright Nora, <em>think</em>. One bit at a time. Step one: open communication.  </p><p>“Listen Sinjin, I’m going to lower my weapon so we can have a conversation. I want you to talk to me.” Nora paused, slowly bring her bat down, nails scraping on the floor.</p><p>Sinjin sneered in response. “What Shroud, you just crawl out of the radio this morning? Kent’s done enough talking for the both of us.” He shoved the gun against Kent with a jerk, causing the ghoul in front of him to gasp shakily. It was a horrific sound, one that Nora would revisit for many nights to come.</p><p>Step two: stay calm.</p><p>Nora’s heart was pounding in her chest, her palms sweating. The look on Kent’s face was making it hard for her to think. What else did she need to do?</p><p>Step three: show empathy.</p><p>“Look Sinjin, I understand that you’re angry, but…”</p><p>But what? What could she say to get on the same level as this guy?  Before her was a man who lived fear and violence every day, and here she was fumbling through the practices of a long-gone institution of law. She was a walking relic. What could a pre-war lawyer, and a complete failure as a wife and mother have in common with a man for whom the violent transformation of a nuclear disaster had been inscribed on his very skin? A disaster that her generation had wrought on the world through war and vicious pride. Who was she to even pretend to understand? To look him in the eye and ask for a conversation, like she even had the right?</p><p>“I think there’s been a misunderstanding” she finished lamely.</p><p>Sinjin’s eyes narrowed, the muscle in his jaw flexing. Nora held her breath waiting for a response, time suspended in midair between them. A bead of sweat trickled down the ruined valleys of Kent’s skin.  </p><p>A nasty smirk spread across Sinjin’s face. “Don’t try to save the day, Shroud. You’re no hero, and I’ll prove it to ya.”</p><p>A gunshot broke the silence, and Nora screamed into the crossfire. </p><p>***</p><p>The sun was setting, and Nora had been in Goodneighbor for no more than an hour when Hancock found her near the entrance to the Third Rail, sitting slumped over on an overturned barrel, a tower of ash collecting on the tip of her forgotten cigarette. Her skin was mottled with bruises, and a bandage covered a nasty wound left where a bullet grazed her cheek. As Hancock approached, he noticed a black fedora on top of a nearby trash fire. Nora did nothing to acknowledge his presence as he entered the dim glow of the street lamp.  </p><p>“I heard about Kent” his voice broke the silence, heavy and serious.  </p><p>Nora didn’t answer, her chapped lips pressed together in a firm line.</p><p>“Wanna talk about it?”</p><p>Silence again. The pillar of ash collapsed to the ground. Nora did not notice, her eyes blank in the orange glow of the burning fedora.</p><p>“Alright, let me rephrase that then. What the fuck happened?”</p><p>The sudden harsh edge to his voice forced Nora’s eyes up. She was surprised to see that his eyes bore no hint of the pity or grief that had surrounded her since her return to Goodneighbor (the news of Kent’s death had arrived before she did). No, Hancock looked pissed, the furrow of his brow and snarl of his lip sparking a pang of fear in Nora’s gut. He looked the king of the zombies now more than ever. She swallowed hard.</p><p>“He had us surrounded,” she croaked. “and he had a gun to Kent’s head. I tried to talk him down, but it didn’t work.”</p><p>Hancock’s brow furrowed deeper. “What do you mean talk him down?”</p><p>She finally brought the cigarette to her lips, taking a long drag before continuing. “I was a lawyer before the war. Well, I had the degree at least, but I never took the bar. I had to read about hostage negotiation for a few case studies in law school, to determine if a cop had followed protocol correctly. I thought I could use what I read to talk Sinjin into letting Kent go but…hell, I was never actually <em>trained </em>for that sort of thing.”</p><p>Hancock fixed her with a dead stare. “What the hell’s a lawyer?”</p><p>Nora paused, stunned for a moment before answering. “It was a pre-war thing” she said slowly. “Lawyers offered legal advice whenever people needed it.” </p><p>“Right” Hancock replied, though understanding never dawned on his face.</p><p>There was a moment of tense silence, then Hancock sighed, leaning against the brick wall of the State House, arms crossed. He looked tall and menacing, looming over her like that. It made Nora feel small, like a child being scolded by a parent. Despite appearances, his voice softened. “You know, I wasn’t talking about Kent.”</p><p>“You weren’t?”</p><p>“Nah, I’m more interested in why you were so gung ho about nailing Sinjin in the first place.”</p><p>Nora shrugged. “It was Kent’s idea. Part of his whole ‘cleaning the streets’ thing. Sinjin was—”</p><p>Hancock waved a hand at her. “I know all about Sinjin’s business in my locale. What I don’t know is why you felt the need to make it any of your business.”</p><p>Nora tilted her bruised chin, confused. “You’re upset I took him down?”</p><p>“What? No!” he spat back. “Believe me, I’m glad to be rid of the guy.”</p><p>Nora narrowed her eyes. “Then why do I feel like I’m being interrogated?”</p><p>His brow furrowed, eyes impossibly dark. “Anyone with eyes can see that Kent was seriously ill. Man only left the memory pod to eat and stare at his posters before going back under. Believe me, I get the whole vigilante justice thing, but you did Kent a serious disservice indulging his fantasies like that playing dress-up.”  </p><p>His tone hit a nerve that sent Nora shooting to her feet. “Well that seems pretty hypocritical, doesn’t it?”</p><p>Hancock pushed himself off the wall, arms still crossed as he met her gaze. With both of them at their full height, he only had a few inches on Nora, but he somehow still managed to tower over her. “Does it?” he retorted, his voice like ice.</p><p>The black depth of his gaze made her stomach drop, but she refused to stand down. “Oh I don’t know, you seem pretty <em>gung ho</em> about dressing up like a dead president every day so you can continue running this place from your little ivory tower in the State House.”</p><p>Hancock’s face darkened, but he did not respond. Nora paid no attention, heat rising to her cheeks as she continued, breathless. “What were you doing to help Kent anyway? He was sitting in that room in the Memory Den alone for <em>days </em>before I talked to him. I mean, fuck Hancock, you show up with all this ‘of the people’ lip service, preaching about freedom, while you collect a cut from every business in this town and <em>spy </em>on everyone else—”</p><p>“I don’t <em>spy </em>on people” he hissed.</p><p>“You knew Valentine was kidnapped by Skinny Malone!”</p><p>“You hacked my fucking terminal?”</p><p>“And you didn’t lift a finger to help him—”</p><p>“I can’t afford to risk ten men so save one.”</p><p>“—then I ask for your help finding McDonough, and you completely snub me!”</p><p>Hancock exploded at that, arms flying to his sides, hands balled into fists. “You asked for my help <em>two days </em>ago. I’m supposed to pull your prince charming out of thin fucking air for you? I have a goddamn city to run.”</p><p>“But you have plenty of time to hit on me at the bar?” His expression fell at that, but Nora wasn’t finished, her tone rising in volume, until she was practically shouting. “You’re hiding something about McDonough, I can tell. You were freaked out when I asked you about him. You know who else acted weird when I mentioned that name? The mayor of Diamond City, the one you hate so much. Don’t you think it’s <em>odd </em>that the only two mayors left in Massachusetts hear the same name and start acting like they don’t want to talk about it? I know John McDonough isn’t dead. Because he’s my soulmate! I can <em>feel </em>him. If Mayor McDonough lied to me, how do I know that Mayor Hancock isn’t lying too?”</p><p>“Don’t you <em>dare </em>compare me to that coward” Hancock growled, taking an indignant step towards her, his eyes staring daggers into her, only inches from her face. She could smell the cigarettes and grape mentats on his breath, along with the heady musk of dust and aged leather.</p><p>Nora felt his anger burning on her skin, mixed with the fresh grief of losing Kent. Her sorrow and frustration spun together like a maelstrom, feeding Hancock’s fury as he in turn fed hers. She dug her nails instinctively into the palm of her hand, teeth clenched as the true colors of John Hancock seemed to unfold before her very eyes, as the chinks in his armor became so suddenly clear. Uncharacteristic as it was, Nora let her fury build, as if compelled by some outside force.</p><p>“Why not? I don’t know many brave men who feel the need to hide behind fake names and flashy costumes.”</p><p>Hancock’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need to take this right now.” He turned on his heel to leave, shoulders and back tense as he made to stalk off towards the State House. Nora reached to grab him, intending to turn him around and demand answers, but touching the crook of his elbow sent a jolt up her arm, and she pulled her hand back, as if she had accidently touched a hot stove. Hancock froze in place. For a brief moment, Nora thought he might have felt it too, but then he rolled out his neck and stormed off once again, seeming more agitated than before.</p><p>“Yeah, go hide in your office Hancock” Nora called after him, angry tears welling in her eyes. “Pay someone else to take your criticism for you.”</p><p>Hancock whipped around, yelling back from across the street. “If you don’t like how I run my town then leave.” A pause, and then his shoulders fell with a sigh, the fire in his eyes fading quickly. When he spoke, his tone was soft, almost apologetic. “Not like there’s much here for you anyway.” Nora opened her mouth the respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Before she could say another word, he turned the corner, disappearing into the night.  </p><p>Nora stood there for a moment, mouth agape and mind boiling under the lamplight. She tried to formulate a heated quip to shout at the darkness (something involving large signatures and the need to compensate for something), but by the time it reached the tip of her tongue, she wasn’t sure the ghoul was even in ear shot. Skin crawling with anger, she threw down her spent cigarette, stamping it out furiously with the heel of her boot. She reached for another pack, but as she gripped the paper box in her hand, she felt a sudden wave of anguish wash over her, completely out of the blue. She started reeling between feelings of indignation and self-hatred, and in her frustration, she chucked the pack of cigarettes down a nearby alley with a frustrated yell, and plopped back down on her overturned barrel, rubbing at her moistened eyes with the heel of her hand.</p><p>What was it about that damn ghoul that got under her skin so easily? When she wasn’t fainting in front of him, she was screaming her head off, or playing the coquettish flirt like she hadn’t just watched her husband murdered in cold blood months before. He always looked at her like he knew something she didn’t, and it made her feel out of control, like a puppet on strings. Hancock was holding McDonough over her head, but she didn’t know what he wanted out of it. Maybe he just liked have a shiny new toy to play with, or maybe he hard darker plans for her. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.</p><p>She sat there stewing for a long while, eventually cooling down enough to get up and retrieve her cigarettes from the dark alleyway. She made her way gingerly through the dark, still sore from her spat with Sinjin’s men. She made a mental note to bug Maccready for some med-x when she got back to the Rexford, and maybe finally sit down and ask him what the hell the deal was with Mayor Hancock.</p><p>After a few minutes of squinting in the dark, she flicked on the light of her pipboy, eventually finding the pack (surprisingly intact) sitting atop a pile of filth that had collected in a particularly dismal corner.</p><p>As she reached down to pick up the pack and inspect the state of its contents, she heard the shing of sliding metal behind her. She spun toward the source, the light of her pipboy swinging around to illuminate a door at the end of the alley. She was met with a pair of bloodshot eyes peering at her through the slot of a rusted door. They squinted at her for a moment, cold and calculating, before a gravelly female voice called out to her.</p><p>“Hey, you. Lookin’ for work?”</p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Hancock stormed into the office with no word to his guards but a slammed door and the click of a lock. He had elected to shut himself in for the night, making a panic room out of his office space. Nothing but chems and his own thoughts to keep him company. Unfortunately, his feelings were beyond levels he was capable of coping with on his own, and his stash ran deep.</p><p>How expertly the woman of his dreams had managed to extract and dissect his insecurities right before his eyes, like a surgeon with a scalpel. And how royally he had already managed to screw things up by being a lying coward.  </p><p>The room began to spin, his vision grew dark around the edges, and his thoughts grew hazy quickly as he dug deeper into the warm cocoon of his high. Before he knew it, he was asleep.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>“You and your brother were supposed to stick together, Johnny boy.”</p><p>Hancock grimaced at the familiar snap of a Boston accent. He had always hated that nickname, but the man seated on the edge of the pier didn’t seem to care. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, fingers picking at the label of a Gwinnett pale ale as the ocean waves lapped lazily below. A bent toothpick dangled from his mouth.</p><p>“You’re dead” Hancock said.</p><p>The burly figure glanced over him, eyes blue and bright in the morning light, his thick gray beard and moustache giving the impression of a permanent frown. “Yeah, well you look it more than me. So what the hell’d you get yourself into that got you comin’ out lookin’ like that?”</p><p>Hancock crossed his arms. “A few things here and there.”</p><p>The man was unamused. “Your brother around?”</p><p>A pause. “I don’t know.” He wasn’t lying.</p><p><em>I did it John, it’s finally mine. </em>Hancock rolled his neck anxiously.</p><p>The man shook his head, cracking his toothpick between his teeth. “Yeesh. Look at the mess you’ve made of yourself, Johnny. You look like one of them ferals, come stormin’ in from the city.”</p><p>“I’d like to think I make for better conversation.”</p><p>The man gave him a sideways glance, then turned back to the ocean. He stayed silent for a long while, watching with great interest as the sun rose above their head rapidly, the shadows on the pier shifting noticeably as it made its quick trek through the sky. The day flew by before their eyes, like the shuffle of a flipbook.</p><p>The man didn’t speak again until the sun was past its peak, and had started to set. “Heard you finally found Nora.”</p><p>Hancock shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “They deliver the newspaper where you’re at?”</p><p>“I hear things, sure.”</p><p>“So what of it?”</p><p>“She’s somethin’ special, ain’t she?”</p><p>Hancock paused. “You have no idea.”</p><p>“So why the hell do you keep running away from her?”</p><p>John gave the man a surprised glance. He didn’t seem to notice. “Sure be a waste if you let a girl like her go. Ain’t nobody else going to wait two hundred years for you to get your shit together.”</p><p>Hancock’s eyes fell to the boardwalk. Listlessly, he kicked a rock over the edge and watched it plop into the water. “It’s complicated. Things weren’t exactly great after you died. Ma kinda just gave up, and Guy…well, he never stopped being Guy. Then Ma was gone and Guy wanted to leave so I went with him. After that everything just went straight to hell.”</p><p>The man listened patiently, chewing on his toothpick while Hancock spoke. When the ghoul didn’t seem to have anything else to say, he jumped in. “Ya know, I’m real disappointed in you Johnny.”</p><p>“Yeah? I’m not surprised” he replied weakly.</p><p>“No, I really mean it. Your ma and I raised you boys to face your problems head on, and to be smart about it. Now I know all that radiation didn’t just fry your brain, ‘cus you’re running one hell of a town there.” Hancock looked up at that, mouth open slightly, pride swelling in his chest. “Listen Johnny, you did a good thing back there with Vic. Your Ma and I are real proud of that, but you can’t rest on your laurels forever. Comfortable people get lazy, and lazy people—”</p><p>“Get killed, yeah I know.” Hancock finished.</p><p>The man twirled the toothpick with his tongue. “If you want to get that girl, ya gonna have to put yourself out there. Gonna have to do a lotta things that scare ya.”</p><p>“What do you mean by that?”</p><p>The man fixed him with a stare, and cracked his toothpick again. “What’d I always tell you boys to do whenever I left with the Caravan?”</p><p>“Watch out for Ma.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>He sighed. “Act like Dad ain’t coming back.”</p><p>“That’s right. Ya can’t keep expecting people to come back, Johnny. Just cus’ you’re a ghoul don’t mean you got all the time in the world.” Hancock met his blue-eyed stare, and suddenly realized how much he took after his Dad. Had things had gone differently for John McDonough, it would have been like looking at a mirror.   </p><p>The sun had begun to dip over the horizon, bathing the sky in brilliant purple and orange hues. Pat McDonough set aside his empty beer bottle, rising to his feet and shoving one hand in his pocket, the other to pointing down the shore. “There’s a big nor’easter comin’ down the coast.” He turned back to Hancock. “You better get ready for it. Your Ma is waitin’ for me, so I gotta run, but you watch yourself out there, Johnny boy.”</p><p>“Yeah, sure. Thanks Dad.”</p><p>Pat plucked the chewed-up toothpick from his mouth, taking a moment to note the splintering teeth marks. “One more thing: watch out for your brother. Something ain’t right on his end.” He paused. “Keep an eye on Nora too. This thing between the two of you…it’s good, but something ain’t right there either.”</p><p>“What d’ya mean?”</p><p>Pat shook his head. “I dunno. I think it has something to do with your brother, but I can’t be sure. I tried, but I haven’t been able to talk to Guy like I’m talking to you right now. It’s got your Ma all worried.”</p><p>Hancock furrowed his brow at that. Just then, the sun disappeared behind the horizon, and thick storm clouds rolled in from the east, accompanied by the rumble of thunder. The sea turned a steely gray and began to stir. As if on cue, Pat flicked his toothpick into the churning waves. Together, they watched the splintered wood float and bob on the water, until it folded into the waves and disappeared.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all so much for reading! </p><p>This chapter was SO challenging for me to write, as it forced me to think very hard about my characters and the journey I want them to make in this story. As you noticed, I ended up taking a lot of liberties with canon, and I'm glad I did (fleshing out Hancock's background has been so much fun!)</p><p>As always, please leave kudos if you haven't already, and be sure to comment with your thoughts and feedback. I absolutely LOVE hearing from you all!</p><p>For various updates and ramblings, follow me at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mel--on--earth</p><p>Stay safe out there, especially if you are protesting!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Grudges</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nora should have known that working for Bobbi would mean nothing but trouble.</p><p>The job was throwing up red flag after red flag, but Nora was too distracted to acknowledge them, her mind still seething hot from her argument with Hancock. Her spat with the Mayor had thrown her for a complete loop, and she was trying—and failing—to use this job to ground herself, regardless of all the parts of Bobbi’s story that just didn’t add up.</p><p>Even Maccready, usually aloof in these matters as long as he got his caps, was starting to notice that something was off. Whether that something concerned Nora or Bobbi, she couldn’t tell, but the kid had already asked her about a dozen times if she was sure she wanted the job, and she just about bit his head off every time the question came up. “Sure boss” he would respond, with a shrug of his shoulders and a sideways glance that should have cued here into the fact that <em>something </em>was off here. Rather than heeding all the warning signs being thrown at her face, Nora went barreling forward through the trenches of Bobbi’s vague, highly suspicious plans to rob Mayor McDonough blind.</p><p>Of course, once Bobbi brought up McDonough’s strongroom, Nora was all in. Sure, she wanted to kick the mayor where it hurt as much as anyone in Goodneighbor (she might even include Piper in that), but a small part of her hoped that the strongroom might contain something—<em>anything </em>that could point her to John McDonough.  </p><p>Bobbi had asked Nora and Maccready to bail Mel out of Diamond City jail, and Nora was eager to go along with the plan, thinking that some time away from the looming brick of the Old State House would clear her head. Unfortunately, their trip across Boston had the exact opposite effect.</p><p>Not long after Nora and Maccready left Goodneighbor, the mark on her right palm began to tingle. After a while longer, it was burning uncomfortably. Eventually, the mark throbbed with every westward step, begging her to turn around and go back to Goodneighbor. What started as an annoying twinge on her hand slowly grew into an unbearable pain that spread through her body.</p><p>She might compare the radiating throb to a migraine, but truthfully the sensation was like nothing she had felt before. It crawled across her skin in shivering waves, eventually seeping into her skin and bones until every breath rattled painfully in her chest. Some base instinct screamed that she would certainly die if she went any further from Goodneighbor, but in her angry and stubborn state, she pushed forward through the agony.</p><p>By the time they reached Diamond City, Nora was a mess. Despite having snapped at Maccready a thousand times already over the course of her trip that she was <em>fine</em>, the merc had taken notice of the sickly sheen of sweat on Nora’s forehead, her pained movements, and the glazed look in her eye as she slunk into their rental room at the Dugout (Maccready insisted that they rest before trying to bust out Mel). Once the door to their room was shut behind them, the merc dropped his pack, turned to the sickly-looking vault dweller, and crossed his arms sternly.  </p><p>“Sit down, you look like death” he grumbled, frustrated but voice shaking with worry.</p><p>Nora collapsed on the edge of the ratty mattress, too exhausted to object. Her head was swimming, and she was having trouble forming a complete thought.</p><p>“Alright, can we stop pretending that everything is fine for one minute? You look like a godda—like a freakin’ mess.”</p><p>Nora wiped the sweat-matted hair from her temples, licking her raw, cracked lips. She didn’t respond, not because she didn’t want to, but she couldn’t summon the strength to form words.</p><p>“So what did you take?” he asked.</p><p>The look Nora gave in response was truly confused, but Maccready wasn’t buying it.</p><p>“C’mon, you reek of withdrawal right now. I can run and get you some addictol, but I don’t want you relapsing on me the minute you’re feeling better. I can’t expect pay from a junkie. So what was it? Jet? Psycho?”</p><p>Nora shook her head, fighting back a sudden wave of nausea. “I didn’t take anything” she managed after a thick swallow. Her vision swam with sickly green blooms of light.</p><p>Maccready made a frustrated noise, stomping across the room to place a calloused hand on her forehead. His expression changed immediately, and he checked again. “Huh, you’re not even warm. What, is your Geiger counter off? You pick up too much radiation out there?”</p><p>Nora winced at his touch. “I don’t think it’s that.” She stopped to let another shiver roll over her before continuing. “We just need to finish up here. It’ll go away once we get heading back to Goodneighbor.”</p><p>“What? No way! Look at yourself, how the heck would another trip across Boston help?”</p><p>“I just <em>know </em>okay?!” Nora barked back, before her hand flew to her mouth to suppress a dry heave.</p><p>Maccready’s brow furrowed, then shot up, eyes wide with sudden understanding. “Fu—Christ Nora, you know you’re not supposed to mess around with that stuff. We gotta get you back to…shit, I don’t know where you’ve got to go. I mean, who do I need to bring you to?”</p><p>Nora must have been hallucinating, because nothing Maccready was saying made any sense. She had already figured her sorry state had <em>something </em>to do with the soulmark, but Maccready wasn’t exactly filling in the blanks for her. She opened her mouth to ask just what the hell was happening to her, but her nausea returned, and she shut her mouth for fear of puking right then and there.</p><p>Maccready held up both hands defensively. “You know what, I don’t need to know. Let’s just get you back to Goodneighbor before you piss off Vadim hurling on his floor.”</p><p>“But we need to get Mel” she said weakly.</p><p>Maccready let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeesh, would you listen to yourself? You know what, fine. I’ll go run and take care of Mel myself. I-I promise I’ll make it quick, alright? You just stay here and try not to die or vomit or anything.” The merc made for the door, before turning around and pointing at Nora, the worry plain on his face. “Yell for Vadim or Scarlet if you need help. But don’t get too comfortable. As soon as I’m done, we’re going back to Goodneighbor.”</p><p>Nora nodded wearily, crumpling into a pathetic, trembling heap on the bed while the merc snatched up his pack and bolted out the door.</p><p>***</p><p>At some point Nora must have fallen asleep, because she was startled awake by the slamming of a door and the stomp of boots on concrete. She opened her tired eyes to check the time, but found that her vision had gone blurry. She could only barely make out Maccready’s form towering over her, but she recognized his voice immediately. “Good, you’re still breathing. C’mon, let’s hurry up and get you outta here.”</p><p>Nora sat up weakly, wincing as another painful shiver surged through her body. Even after giving birth, she had never felt so weak in her life. “What about Mel?”</p><p>“I took care of it, but I had to pay his bail, so you owe me 300 caps.”</p><p>“Thanks, Mac” she croaked. “Can we go now?”</p><p>Her vision came into painful focus, and she saw Maccready hold out a hand. Still weak with nausea, she accepted it, and the merc pulled her up gently, slinging her arm over his shoulder to support her.</p><p>“Yeah,” he replied, “let’s get outta here.”</p><p>As soon as they put Diamond City at their backs, Nora felt a wave of relief wash over her. Like a fever breaking, the shivers came to a halt, and her nausea ebbed enough that she didn’t have to worry about puking on her shoes anymore. By time they were out of the Diamon City guard’s sight, she was able to walk on her own. Then, after an hour of stumbling through the ruins of Boston, most of her pain had subsided and she was able to think clearly again. Maccready must have noticed her sudden improvement, as he nudged her with a canister of water and a box of snack cakes. She accepted them gratefully.</p><p>“Jeez boss, I knew you were crazy, but you must be fu—freaking psychotic, leaving a soulmate behind like that. You got a death wish or something?”</p><p>Nora swallowed down a mouthful of snack cake with a gulp of water. “Sorry Mac, but I really have no idea what you’re talking about. What’s my soulmate have to do with any of this?”</p><p>Maccready gave her a wide-eyed glance. “Wow, you don’t know? I mean couldn’t you <em>feel </em>it? First time I tried going somewhere without Lucy it was like I was going to explode if I didn’t run right back to her. She was pregnant at the time too, which I’m pretty sure made it ten times worse. I barely made it to the next town over before I tucked tail and ran back home.” He paused. “God Nora, you can’t put so much space between you and your mate like that. People can die from it you know, the withdrawal.”</p><p>Nora sighed through a mouthful of food, then swallowed hard. “Yeah I felt it, sort of, but—wait, you have a soulmate too?”</p><p>“Had. She died.”</p><p>Nora turned to look at Maccready. His face gave away nothing, mouth held in a firm line, but the pain of loss shimmered in his eyes. Even after only two months in the wasteland, she recognized the look all too well.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Yeah, me too.” An awkward silence settled over them. Nora finished her snack cakes, tossing the empty box into a nearby dumpster.</p><p>“So Mac, I’m really new to this soulmate thing.”</p><p>“200 years is a long time to still be new.”</p><p>Nora shook her head. “I didn’t have a soulmark before the vault. It showed up after I woke from cryostasis.”</p><p>Maccready raised an eyebrow at that. “Huh, weird. But still, they had soulmarks back then, right?”</p><p>Nora nodded. “Yeah, but it was a relatively new thing, and having a mate was so rare, the finer details weren’t exactly common knowledge.”</p><p>Maccready let out a long whistle in response. “Damn, I mean…well, just damn. You get spit out of a vault and find out you have a soulmate all at once? Without even knowing how any of it works? Tough break.”</p><p>Nora shrugged. “Is it really that big of a deal, this soulmate thing?”</p><p>“I don’t know, why don’t you ask Nora from about an hour ago? People really <em>do </em>die from being separated from their mates ya know, unless their mate is already dead, in which case the bond just kind of…goes away” he waved his hands as if to sweep away the air in front of him.</p><p>“Would you be able to tell? If your mate died, I mean”</p><p>He shoved his hands into his pockets, a sad look crossing his face. “I mean, losing a soulmate…I imagine it feels pretty similar to having a limb cut off. It’s like this thing that’s always been a part of you is suddenly gone, and you have to learn how to live all over again now that it isn’t there.” The merc went silent, then perked up suddenly, eyebrows shooting up. “Wait a minute, you wouldn’t be sick like this unless you already bonded.”</p><p>“Bonded?”</p><p>“Yeah, like you’ve had physical contact with your mate.”</p><p>A shocked expression crossed Nora’s face. “Wait, by ‘physical contact,’ you don’t mean…” she made a rude gesture with her hands.</p><p>Maccready waved a hand at her. “Nah, not like that. I mean, I guess some people might want to get straight to business, but it can just be a little touch, like on the arm or something. The mark doesn’t really mean much until then, but once you’re bonded it’s pretty serious stuff.”</p><p>Nora shot a surprised glance at Maccready. “Wait, so I’m getting sick like this because I already met my soulmate?”</p><p>He nodded. “Yeah, otherwise mates would just die before they even met each other. I mean, no one really knows how or why this stuff works, but I figure that’s why.”</p><p>“Well Mac, that’s a bit of a problem for me. I’ve been looking for my soulmate since I left the vault. If I already met them…fuck, did I accidently <em>kill </em>them or something?”</p><p>Mac shook his head. “No way you did. You’d be able to tell, even if you weren’t bonded. Besides, you wouldn’t be sick if you did.”</p><p>Nora ran a hand over her face. “Well, I still have no idea who the hell it is I’m bonded to, or whatever.”  </p><p>The merc raised an eyebrow at that. “Really? I mean, you know the name right?” Her nod of confirmation prompted him to continue. “Well, when you were still sick, you said you had to get back to Goodneighbor, so they must be somewhere around town, right? I’ve been doing work there for a while, I probably know them.”</p><p>Nora shook her head. “I don’t know, he might not be. I asked Mayor Hancock about it and he said it didn’t ring any bells.”</p><p>Maccready shrugged. “Try me.”</p><p>She bit her lip, almost embarrassed to say the name out loud. It came out as a question. “John McDonough?”</p><p>Maccready came to a sudden abrupt stop, his brow furrowed in a mix of surprise and confusion. Nora stopped a few steps ahead of him, perking up at his reaction. “You know him?”</p><p>He didn’t answer right away. Even when he opened his mouth to speak, it took a moment for the words to come out: “Hancock said he didn’t know the guy?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>There was a pause, during which Maccready’s mouth slowly turned down into a contemplative frown, and his eyes fell to the ground in bewildered contemplation. Nora held her breath waiting for his response. After a moment, he fixed her with an unreadable stare. “You know, maybe you should try talking to Hancock again.”</p><p>Nora shook her head. “Mac, I tried, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. I know he’s hiding something but—”</p><p>Maccready stopped her with a staying hand. “Listen, I’m not getting mixed up in this because it ain’t really my business. Just…just tell the ghoul to fess up already, okay?”</p><p>Nora opened her mouth to press him further, but the merc turned away from her and resumed walking, refusing to meet her glance. Sensing that he wasn’t going to say anything more, Nora followed along without another word. He avoided Nora’s gaze for a while after that. They didn’t breathe a word about soulmates for the rest of the trip.</p><p>***</p><p>The pain was worse than Hancock’s nastiest hangover.</p><p>As if his screaming match with Nora hadn’t put him in a foul enough mood, what began as a one-man pity party in his office slowly devolved into the day from hell. It started as a little soreness in his arm, then radiated through his entire body like the worst fucking trip of his life. He might have blamed it on a bad batch of something, but the only chems he’d taken that day were a few mentats he’d cooked up himself. No mentat could fuck him up this bad.</p><p>The ghoul shut himself in his office the entire day, tossed a few sheets over the windows to fend off the painful light seeping in through the window panes, and tried to sleep it off. He slept fitfully, waking from time to time covered in a sheen of sweat. He only left the couch once to grab a pail in case he heaved, which he later did. The pain and shivers went on late into the night. Then, just as he thought he must have been going feral, a wash of relief passed over him, and it subsided.</p><p>Feeling more than a little paranoid about the whole experience, Hancock paid a visit to Doctor Amari the next morning, who immediately recognized his symptoms, and went on explain the lovely concept of bond withdrawal.</p><p>“So she must be heading back if I’m feeling better, right?”</p><p>Amari nodded. “Naturally. I imagine she had to. The withdrawal couldn’t have been pleasant for her either.”</p><p>Hancock scrubbed a weary hand over his face. “Shit, I really gotta do something about this, don’t I doc.”</p><p>Amari offered him a gentle smile. “I know it must be difficult, but it really is in both of your best interests.”</p><p>Hancock sighed. “Can’t argue with you there.” There was a pause, in which Hancock stared at the floor. “Thanks for the information, doc. I gotta go lay out a plan.”  </p><p>***</p><p>Nora was going to fucking <em>kill</em> Bobbi if she saw her again.</p><p>Of course she had been lying to them. It was so fucking obvious, especially once the dig had them taking a sharp turn south miles before they’d come anywhere near Diamond City.</p><p>Bobbi had spent most of the dig dodging Nora and Mel’s questions, and Maccready had just about rolled his eyes whenever Bobbi declared that they were “almost there.” Between Bobbi’s caginess, the return of Nora’s sickness when she once again left Goodneighbor (Maccready had tried to stop her, but she insisted they push forward and finish the job so they could be done with it already), and the onslaught of mirelurks and ghouls waiting for them in the tunnels, clambering up into the strongroom to find a pissed off Fahrenheit waiting to confront them was just the icing on the fucking cake.</p><p>The tension in the room was palpable as Fahrenheit lit a cigarette with an angry flick of her lighter. She blew smoke like a dragon when she spoke. “Bobbi, what are you doing here?” Her tone was accusatory, and far from surprised. The ghoul in question cursed under her breath as the bodyguard continued. “What are you doing stealing from Hancock? He took you <em>in</em> Bobbi, and you’re stealing from him?”</p><p>Bobbi shook her head, teeth clenched indignantly. “Don’t listen to her” she barked.</p><p>Nora turned to face Bobbi. “What the <em>hell </em>does this have to do with Hancock?”</p><p>“Yeah, about that. As you might have guessed, this isn’t the Diamond City strongroom.”</p><p>Nora’s face darkened in response, grip tightening on her swatter. “Then where the hell are we?”</p><p>Fahrenheit scoffed from her perch in the rafters. Her tone dripped with disdain. “I see the rest of you are in the dark about this. Nice, No-Nose. You all just broke into Hancock’s store room. You know, Hancock? The <em>Mayor </em>of Goodneighbor?”</p><p>Mel let out an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damnit Bobbi.” Maccready looked about ready to bash the ghoul’s head in with his bare hands, and Nora couldn’t say she was too pleased either. Bobbi must have noticed, because she quickly put up a staying hand as excuses started pouring from her mouth:</p><p>“Alright, listen, I know this isn’t what you expected, but don’t bail on me now. There’s still a ton of caps on the line.”</p><p>Nora felt rage swelling inside her, along with the slight nausea welling in her stomach. Her head throbbed dully as she attempted to orchestrate a response to this entire mess. They had been robbing <em>Hancock </em>the whole damn time? A few days ago after she’d completely demeaned him in the middle of the streets—<em>his </em>streets—and she signs on with this stranger to unknowingly rob him blind? When she got back to Goodneighbor (<em>if </em>she got back, considering the flamers Fahrenheit’s men were wielding), Hancock was going to <em>kill </em>her.</p><p>Nora turned to Bobbi, face blotchy with nauseous anger. “Jesus Bobbi, what is this all about? Why did you lie to us?”</p><p>Bobbi’s eyes narrowed. “Well, despite your little tiff the other night—oh yeah, I heard it, along with the rest of Goodneighbor—I knew no one in their right mind would help me rip off Hancock. Everyone is so afraid of him, or so damn in love with him. He think’s he’s invincible, and I wanted to show him that he wasn’t. So yeah, I lied. Big deal. But you know what, we can still come out of this rich.”</p><p>“Counter offer,” Fahrenheit interjected, smoke billowing around her figure as she spoke. “Leave now and me and my mercenaries can forget this ever happened.”</p><p>Nora looked between the two women, eyes burning and head pounding from the withdrawal. She was in better shape than she had been in Diamond City, but that didn’t make it easier to figure out how to get out of this mess. She looked to Maccready for guidance, and the merc responded with a confused look of his own, shrugging his shoulders as if to say “I have no fucking clue.”</p><p>It was then, as the two shared unsure glances, that a gunshot echoed against the bare walls and metal crates of the warehouse, causing both Nora and Maccready to flinch, before whipping around to find the source. They were met with Bobbi’s slumped-over body, and Mel’s smoking gun.</p><p>The man regarded them with an indignant stare. “Don’t give me that look. You’d have to be an idiot to mess with Hancock.” He holstered his gun and ran grimy fingers through his greasy red hair. “The guy tends to hold grudges.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>When Nora got back to Goodneighbor, Maccready announced that he had some business to take care of with Daisy—something about a delivery he was expected from a caravan—and they agreed to split ways for the night.</p><p>As they parted, Nora caught herself looking up at the lit windows of Hancock’s office in the Old State House. Normally, she might have marched right up there demanding answers, but she was feeling more than a little beat down after the difficult trip to Diamond City, not to mention the whole mess with Bobbi. Fortunately, Mel had agreed to split whatever caps were left on Bobbi’s corpse before they split ways, so Nora had a little extra spending money on hand. Thank God, because she was in dire need of a drink.</p><p>It was nearly four in the morning when Nora slumped down the stairs of the Third Rail. The place was quiet and completely empty, apart from Ham, Whitechapel Charlie, and one lone ghoul nursing his drink in a dark corner. Even Magnolia seemed to gave punched out for the night. Charlie must have been bored, because her whiskey neat was waiting on the bar for her when she arrived.</p><p>“Bit late for a girl like you to be runnin’ around, eh?” Charlie commented, wiping a smudged glass with a filthy rag.</p><p>Nora slumped down on a stool, going straight for the whiskey without even dropping her pack. “Just got back from a job. Let’s just say it was a rough one.”</p><p>“Cleanin’ house is never easy for dirty folk like us.”</p><p>Nora nodded before gulping down the entire glass. Charlie was ready with a refill in the blink of an eye.</p><p>“Well, if the last one didn’t wipe you out, how ‘bout another job?”</p><p>Nora let out a weak laugh. “Oh? Better than the last, I hope.”</p><p>“For you? I reckon it’ll be a walk in the park.”</p><p>Nora thought it over with another swig of whiskey. “Depends. What’s the job?”</p><p>Charlie placed a full bottle of whiskey on the bar. “Ever heard of a place called ‘the Pickman Gallery?’”  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all for reading! Be sure to leave comments and kudos if you haven't already. </p><p>This chapter was S O  H A R D for me to spit out, mostly because I am v excited for what comes next, but there were some things I wanted to lay out before the next big thing™ happens. </p><p>(Side bar: I love writing Maccready so much because he is just such a smol tuff beeb. I kinda want to do a Maccready fic once this one is done, I just have to remember that his name is spelled with two (2) c's). </p><p>My summer classes start next week, so I won't be able to write as much, but I'm hoping to use my last week off to write as much as I can before things get busy. Thank you all for being so patient regarding updates, despite their irregularity!</p><p>As always, find me on tumblr at https://mel--on--earth.tumblr.com for updates and homemade recipes for building your very own ghoul boyfriend out of duct tape.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Bang</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: This chapter contains references to torture.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Tight waves of anxiety radiated through Hancock’s chest as he sloshed through the desecrated streets of Boston. He was still a few blocks from his destination, but the ghoul could already smell the stinking decay of the riverbank. It was nothing like the fresh seaside breezes of his childhood. The water here was filled with industrial sludge, where dead fish gathered around the edges of rust-dinged boats that had somehow managed to float pathetically on the water for the last 200 years. The stench was so potent, he could practically taste the rot of seaweed and algae on his tongue.</p><p>At least he left his coat and hat at home. His road leathers would smell like old cram for week after this.</p><p>An hour ago, even Hancock’s wildest trip couldn’t have convinced him to step foot in this part of town, eerily quiet as it was. Boston was usually crawling with raiders, supermutants, scavengers, you name it. Here though, there was nothing. No gunshots, not one whir of a turret, no heavy footsteps or long-abandoned radios. His gut had always told him to avoid this neighborhood. So, a few weeks ago, when he heard raiders had suddenly shown up in this area, his gut told him it was time to put out some feelers.</p><p>Unfortunately, things weren’t that simple this side of Boston. After losing his second scout, he’d tasked Whitechapel Charlie with finding someone a little more robust than his “in and out like a shadow” guys to figure out what the hell was going on at the Pickman Gallery.</p><p>Hancock’s stomach nearly dropped out his puckered ghoul ass when he heard that Nora had taken the job.</p><p>It was just the cherry on top of this whole shitty week. First they had their goddamn fight after the whole Kent debacle. Then Nora skipped town, and they both had their little sick day from the withdrawal. <em>Then</em>, not two days after he’d cleaned out his chum bucket, he was on the couch again in his office, dry heaving and silently begging Nora to just come back already, as if he wasn’t a complete hypocrite for asking someone else to quit running already.</p><p>Here he was, thinking his soulmate must have been pretty pissed off at him if she was willing to endure this just to avoid him. But no, it was much worse than that. You could only imagine his <em>unbridled joy</em> when he got word that Bobbi-No-Nose had managed to get her greasy little fingers into his safehouse. All with Nora’s help.</p><p>If it was anyone else, he’d have put a price on their head. Hell, he’d kill them himself. But that’s not what was happening here. He’d almost been robbed blind by his <em>soulmate </em>of all people. Lucky for him, Fahrenheit had kept her eyes and ears open wide enough to catch them in the act, but Christ, did it still hurt. All the stories he’d heard as a teenager of kindred spirits and passionate romance, and all he and Nora had done was lie and argue between bouts of vague, noncommittal flirting.</p><p>He just couldn’t figure out how to feel about her. A part of him could only gush over how beautiful and angelically fierce she was. Another wanted to bar her from ever stepping foot in his town again for daring to cross him. Yet another wanted to drag her pretty ass to the top floor of the Rexford and fuck her into a mattress, or roll his hips between her thighs, tender and sweet just like soulmates should.</p><p>She made him crazy. She made him hungry. She made him hurt.</p><p>Fuck. <em>Fuck</em>.</p><p>Hancock bit back a groan.</p><p>Despite the complete mess Nora had made of him, as soon as he heard Nora had taken the scouting job from Charlie, he was skipping town to run headfirst into the Boston’s own little Bermuda triangle. He hadn’t even told anyone where he was going.</p><p>So here he was, kicking through ever inch of mud and fog that lay between him and the Pickman Gallery, knowing full well that he was more likely to fall off the face of the earth than he was to ever make it out of here alive.</p><p>All so he could…well, what? Stop her? Save her? Tell her the truth? He wanted it to be the latter, but it was getting hard to read his own mind lately to figure out what the hell he <em>really </em>wanted, as if there were more than one of him calling the shots (and he wasn’t talking about little Hancock, seeing as <em>that</em> part of him usually fell into line with his survival instinct, at least).</p><p>The ghoul thought he’d have plenty of time to sort things out in his head on the trip to the Gallery, but by time the riverbank came into view, he was feeling more confused than before. Strangely enough, he felt like he was still trying to tease out where his idea of a soulmate ended and Nora began.</p><p>Hancock immediately recognized the front door of the Pickman Gallery from the scout reports. Nothing but a little red door nestled in an alleyway lined with grimy brick, a bright red sentinel peering at him through the fog. Hancock could swear he felt eyes on him, but when he spun around to search his surroundings, he found that he was alone. It was as if the door itself was watching him, wondering why the ghoul had come, what he wanted, why he had come to disturb the remains of this long-forgotten ruin.</p><p>It creeped him the fuck out.</p><p>Hancock stood there for what seemed like ages, staring and staring at that crimson red omen, hazy in the rolling fog. A chill rolled down his spine. Nora wasn’t far, he could feel it. Her glow had been pulsing behind his eyes for a few blocks now. This close, it was like a beacon beckoning him forward into its blinding light. It made her name burn on his sin. His soulmate was here, somewhere behind that red door. He could feel it.</p><p>Hancock took a deep breath, followed by a sharp exhale that locked his shoulders back and cracked something at the base of his neck. His grip tightened on his shotgun.</p><p>Fuck it.</p><p>He was going to save his soulmate. Then, he was going to tell her everything. No reservations, no half-truths. Nothing but the cold, hard, shitty truth, grainy and grimy like the soggy coffee grounds you used to scrub a cooking pan. The truth wasn’t pretty, but sometimes you need to bust out the ugly stuff in order to come clean. If, after hearing the whole sob story, she still wanted to try this thing, great. And if not, well…they’d figure something out.</p><p>With an almost trembling hand, Hancock reached for the doorknob, the dinged metal warm, despite the cold damp clinging to the December air. His mind went still and stiff, a sudden realization erupting from his head like an exclamation mark.  </p><p>He didn’t even have a chance to turn the knob. There was a rustle of clothing, the whip of something swinging in the air, then a thud.</p><p>Everything went dark.</p><p>***</p><p>The first thing he registered upon waking was the thick stench of blood clinging to the air, pungent and humid. Then, there was the rhythmic <em>shing, shing </em>of a knife being sharpened while someone hummed a patriotic march in time, their voice rising with careful excitement on each <em>shing</em>.</p><p>It wasn’t until Hancock’s eyes finally creaked open that he realized he couldn’t move, because he could see a series of leather belts holding him down on what looked like an old, rusted hospital gurney, it’s fabric blackened with mold. He tried to test his binds, but he found it difficult to move. His mind was thick with a confused fog, and his limbs felt dense and heavy. Someone had dosed him with…shit, you know, that <em>stuff</em> that makes you all woozy and light, floaty and fuck-all. Hancock struggled to think of the name for a long while before it finally managed to roll off his tongue, his voice thick and delirious when the name finally took shape in his mouth: “Med-x.”</p><p>The sound of knife sharpening stopped, the final <em>shing</em> hanging heavy in the air, reverberating through that thick fog of blood like waves in a dark pool, their ripples disturbed by the creak of footsteps on the wood floor. A tall figure filled the doorway as Hancock’s vision finally focused.</p><p>His captor looked nothing like he would have expected. There was no scarred, snarling, dirt-covered face, no jagged pieces of bent metal strapped to his chest, no half-shaved heads or eyes lined with charcoal. Strangely enough, the horror dwelling in the Pickman Gallery looked like anyone you might see walking the upper stands of Diamond City. Just a simple man in a plain, wrinkled suit, his hair slicked back into a neat ponytail. A pleasant smile rested on his face.  He’d have figured the guy to be pretty normal, if it weren’t for the ice in his voice when he finally spoke.</p><p>“Hello, killer.”</p><p>Something like fear began to stir in Hancock’s stomach as the man drew near, towering over him where he lay. The man’s hands were clasped behind his back as he bent over to inspect his prisoner. Why was this man calling him a killer? He hadn’t—he’d just—why was it so hard to think?</p><p>“Nodduh killer” Hancock managed to mumble through numb lips, his mouth barely able to form the words.</p><p>The man tsked at that. “And here I thought you too slight for a full dose,  but your tolerance is astounding. Been experimenting with syringes, have we?” He approached the gurney, checking the restraints and peering over Hancock, his expression dismissive and clinical. “You know, you aren’t the first raider to come to my gallery in search of vengeance, and you certainly won’t be the last.”</p><p>“No, no I’m not…” the effort it took to form words was too much. Frustrated by his inability to speak, Hancock pressed against his restraints, but his arms fell limp with exhaustion as soon as he lifted them. His captor shushed him.</p><p>“I would not struggle if I were you. It will only make the drug wear off faster. A shame about your love for the needle. This would have been quite peaceful if the drug took better.” He reached out to grip the ghoul’s chin, his fingers clenched uncomfortably tight on his uneven skin. “No, you wouldn’t have felt a thing. But, judging by your impressive collection of track marks, I’d say that won’t be an option for much longer.” He released Hancock’s chin, turning to a table glittering with metal tools. “And you shall feel it all, I’m afraid. Believe me, just because my knife is sharper than most does not mean this will be any easier.”</p><p>The man busied himself with setting his utensils on a nearby tray, arranging and rearranging them. He would pause now and then to glance at a series of scribbles on a small scrap of paper, crinkled and pressed flat against the table. He hummed as he worked, calm and completely at ease, as if her were merely knitting at the fireplace. Hancock watched for a long while, entranced. But then, through the heavy fog swirling in his head, he suddenly remembered the somewhat important fact that he was being held captive by what was clearly a psychopath. He once again began his lame attempts to struggle against his bindings, but was rewarded only with a small smile from the strange man.  </p><p>“Would you like to see? My vision? You are really quite lucky. The piece I have planned for you is truly exquisite. Perhaps it will be my best yet.” He gently lifted the scrap of paper he had been studying, as if it might crumble between his fingers, and held it above Hancock’s face so he could read its contents.</p><p>It was…something fucking else. Even if he were sober right now, Hancock wasn’t sure he’d know what to make of it. There was a series of notes framing the margins of a detailed sketch. He was lost in all the details for a moment, then a light flickered on in his head, and he suppressed a gag.</p><p>“Evocative isn’t it?” the man’s face split into a sickening grin. “Are you familiar with the image of the Ouroboros? It’s a symbol of endless creation and destruction, constantly devouring itself in order to create something new. It is he who eats the world, and he who dreams to create it anew, all wrapped into one concise image.”</p><p>Hancock’s eyes went wide, and his stomach lurched.</p><p>“You were the inspiration, of course. After all, you are the first ghoul who has darkened my doorstep, and your kind fascinates me. You’ve taken such a destructive force and turned it into something that <em>thrives</em>.”</p><p>This was sick. This was inhumane. This had to be a nightmare. <em>Please</em> let this be a nightmare.  </p><p>“Of course, the most difficult part will be breaking your spine. I’m told that ghouls are rather inflexible. Something to do with radiation’s effect on bone density. If that’s true, I don’t think you’ll be able to achieve this shape with your vertebrae intact.”</p><p>Hancock scrambled for something—anything that could take him away from this place. He thought of Goodneighbor, of Daisy’s laugh and the sour look on Clair’s face whenever he stumbled drunk into the Rexford. He thought of Magnolia’s singing and playing chess with Fahrenheit and…Nora.</p><p>“But I simply cannot decide what to do first. Once I break the spine, you won’t <em>feel </em>any of it.”</p><p><em>Nora</em>.</p><p>He was too paralyzed by fear to actually scream, so he simply <em>thought </em>her name, as loud as he could. Nora. <em>Nora. NORA</em>. Would she hear him through the bond? Was that how any of this even worked? He sure as hell had never heard her before. Fuck, if she did hear, would she even come? Would she <em>want </em>to save him? Would she freak out when it was Mayor Hancock lying on the table where John McDonough was supposed to be?</p><p>NORA. </p><p>The man turned back to his tools and rested his hand on his chin, muttering under his breath. Hancock wished he couldn’t hear any of it, but he did. “And what of the eyes? So striking, but they will decay so fast. Shall I remove them? Or sew the lids shut?”</p><p>FOR FUCKS SAKE NORA, I NEED HELP. I’M HERE, RIGHT HERE. COME FIND ME. I NEED YOU, PLEASE. NORA. NORA. NORA.</p><p>His captor turned back to Hancock. “Ah, yes, but first—” he selected a syringe from his assortment of tools, testing the needle with a precise flick before smiling down at Hancock. “It won’t be enough for the pain, but it will prevent you from resisting. Your body must be docile for the transformation to come.”</p><p>Hancock tried to struggle, but his limbs still felt like lead, and all he could manage were a few limp twitches. Between lame efforts, he felt the pinch of a needle in his arm. He held his breath, even though he knew full well it would take a few minutes for the drug to kick in. A strangled sound escaped his throat.</p><p>Then a creak on the floorboard. But his captor hadn’t moved.</p><p>The man besides him seemed to have been suddenly doused in ice, back straight, something about him gone jagged, like a cat raising it’s hair at a dog. There was a tense silence in the room, and then there wasn’t. </p><p><em>Bang</em>.</p><p>A gunshot.</p><p>Chaos erupted. Hancock could hear the sound of splintering as lead met wood, the crash of metal, the gentle clatter of surgical tools scattering across the floor. He saw his captor slam into the wall, one hand clenching a bloom of red on his left shoulder. A sickly smile split his face in two. His voice cool and calm, despite his injury. “Well, I wasn’t expecting a guest today, let alone a vault-dweller, and <em>certainly</em> not the sole survivor herself.”</p><p>He saw Nora standing fierce in the doorway, hands fumbling as she struggled to eject the shell from her shotgun and slam fresh ammo down the barrel. Her hands were shaking, and wisps of hair lay matted against her sweat-damp face. She looked frightened. “You must be Pickman” she spat, voice shaking.</p><p>“I am. I take it you saw my little gallery downstairs. What did you think?”</p><p>“I think you’re fucking sick.” She lifted the gun. <em>Bang bang</em>. Another crash as Pickman dodged the spray of bullets.</p><p>“My work serves a greater purpose, allow me to explain—”</p><p><em>BANG</em>.</p><p>Pickman laughed, his voice hollow and chilling. “Those raiders were menaces to society my dear, every one of them. I took their violent bodies and transformed them into something beautiful and transcendent.”</p><p>“What, is that supposed to be a fucking metaphor for something?”</p><p>His face fell into a sour grimace. “It does not have the same impact if I need to explain it.”</p><p>“Then spare me the details. Besides, I wouldn’t really call what you’re doing <em>art</em>” she spat. “You’re a monster.”</p><p>Pickman laughed again, despite the warm red liquid seeping between his fingers. The sound sent feverish chills down Hancock’s spine. “And what of you, vault dweller? The sole survivor—oh yes, I’ve heard the stories. You’ve killed many on your path to Boston. Are we so different?”</p><p>“Don’t” Nora’s voice dropped low “play games with me. I do what I need to survive. We both know that.”</p><p>Pickman’s eyes narrowed, a smile playing at his lips. “Do we? I heard how you hunted down Kellogg and executed him, then sifted through his most private memories like yesterday’s newspaper. Was that for survival?”</p><p>“He took my <em>son</em>!”</p><p>“You killed a conman in cold blood don the streets of Goodneighbor in broad daylight, to survive?</p><p>“He was reaching for—”</p><p>“And what of dear Kent?”</p><p><em>Bang</em>.</p><p>Pickman’s eyes went wide. He looked down.</p><p><em>Bang</em>.</p><p>Bright red splashed on the wall, glossy and brilliant in the gloom. There was a crash as Pickman’s body slumped to floor, then silence.</p><p>Hancock lay motionless on the gurney, eyelids heavy and mind distant as Nora dropped her weapon, the sound dull and distant in his ears. Damn, he hadn’t had a med-x trip like this since…</p><p>His vision blurred, and a bright blue angel leaned over him, fiery orange halo hanging over her head. Then everything went black.</p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The first thing was the smell of stale coffee, hanging heavy over the salt-fish stench of the river docks. Then the faint call of seagulls and the lapping of waves. For a brief glimmer of a moment, he thought he’d woken up in the old shack by the seaside, that he’d get out of bed and find ma’ cooking cram in a pan out back. But then a dull headache bled through the edges of his consciousness, followed by the familiar fuzz of a med-x hangover that he’d never have recognized while ma was still around. His eyes creaked open, and he sat up, relieved to discover that he could finally <em>move </em>again, even if his head felt like it’d been trampled by a fucking brahmin.</p><p>Mind cloudy, Hancock took a moment to absorb his surroundings. He was in an old diner, sprawled out on the cracked red vinyl of a booth seat, the room dimly lit by an oil lamp on the front counter. A pleasant tune that Hancock recognized floated in faintly from a radio in the other room. The windows were boarded up, but if he had to guess, they were somewhere by the river docks, probably not far from the Pickman gallery.</p><p>He was alone, as far as he could tell, but someone had set a can of water and a box of snack cakes on the table next to him. Hancock drank the water greedily, but had no appetite for the cakes.</p><p>And then, just as he wiped a dribble of water from his chin, it hit him. Pickman gallery and the room that smelled like blood, Pickman himself and that goddamn sketch, then Nora—</p><p><em>Nora</em>.</p><p>Hancock jumped to his feet with a clatter, empty can falling to the floor and his hand flying to his mark. He breathed an audible sigh of relief when his fingers grasped the bandana, still wrapped tight around his forearm, the knot secure and turned inwards like he always tied it. It was still warm, and nothing was out of place. She hadn’t looked.</p><p>So where the hell was she?</p><p>As if on cue, the radio clicked off in the other room, the sudden silence followed by the sound of footsteps on the tile floor. Nora appeared in the doorway, bloodstained vault suit unzipped to her waist to reveal a dingy white undershirt. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she wore a blank expression on her mud-streaked face.</p><p>“You’re awake” she said, voice flat.</p><p>“Yeah” Hancock breathed.</p><p>A stretch of pregnant silence followed, in which Hancock couldn’t figure out what to say, although he’d kick himself later for not starting off with a basic “thanks for saving my life.” Maybe it was the fog of the med-x hangover, but he just couldn’t think of the right words to say in this insane moment. Thus, Nora spoke first.</p><p>“So you want to tell me what you were doing at the Pickman Gallery?” Her voice was frighteningly even, direct. Like a parent whose kid just came home after curfew.</p><p>“Whaddya mean?” he replied.</p><p>She considered him for a moment before continuing. “Why ask Charlie to find a scout if you were just going to go poking around yourself? Doesn’t seem like a very mayoral thing to do.”</p><p>Hancock slumped forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “What, is this an interrogation? Trying to give Valentine a run for his money?”</p><p>She sat on one of the stools by the front counter facing him, legs crossed delicately. She watched him like a vulture. “I was a lawyer in a past life. Humor me.”</p><p>Hancock rolled out his neck in an attempt to avoid her gaze. “I got tired of waiting. Lost three guys to that place so… you know, what’s the old saying? If you want something done, you do it yourself?”</p><p>“And Charlie never bothered to tell you that I was making my way over there too?”</p><p>“No. He didn’t.”</p><p>“Even after <em>all of Goodneighbor</em> found out about what happened with Bobbi?”</p><p>Hancock met her gaze at that, eyes narrowed half in anger, half in confused grief. “Yeah. Even after that.”</p><p>Something rumbled soundlessly in the air between them.</p><p>“Bullshit” she spat. “Either you’re the worst mayor I’ve ever fucking heard of, or you’re lying.”</p><p>Hancock stood up, hands balled into fists at his sides. “Why not fucking both, sunshine?” Electricity sparked in her eyes at that. The sight made anger bloom in his chest. There it was again. That fucking hostility, like when they fought before, after Kent. What <em>was</em> it about this gal that managed to get him so worked up? She got some secret “piss of Hancock” button on that pipboy or something?</p><p>“I think you’re lying” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, arms crossing over her chest as she rose to her feet.</p><p>Hancock threw his hands up. “So what if I am? Why would it matter?”</p><p>“I don’t know!” she barked back. “Wouldn’t you think it was <em>strange </em>if someone hired you to scout a place out, then <em>followed </em>you there? Right after you got accidentally mixed up in trying to rob their goddamn safehouse?”</p><p>He paused, taken aback. “What, you think I’m trying to kill you or something?” the confusion in his voice was genuine.</p><p>“What other reason would you have to be there?” Her arms crossed tighter over her chest, pushing against the soft plush of her breasts. That made Hancock angrier, for some reason.</p><p>Their voices were filling the room, bouncing angrily off the dusty tile like bullets. Hancock could feel his emotions boiling over inside him, but couldn’t seem to find the switch to turn down the heat. Everything just kept bubbling straight up into his throat and spilling out.</p><p>“I was trying to <em>save </em>your ass” he yelled, jabbing a finger into his chest.</p><p>Nora raised an indignant eyebrow. “Save me?” she scoffed. “I find that pretty hard to believe.”</p><p>“Why?! Why is that so hard to believe?” Hancock took another step forward. They were within arms reach now. Nora held her ground.</p><p>“Because you should <em>hate</em> me!” she cried.</p><p>“Why would I hate you?”</p><p>“Why wouldn’t you?”</p><p>“<em>Because you’re my soulmate!</em>”</p><p>Silence broke over the room, and Nora froze, her expression struck with a mixture of shock and confusion. Not knowing what else to do in that moment, Hancock inhaled sharply through his nose and ripped off that old, dingy bandana, thrusting out his arm to show her the pretty blue print of her name marked there, plain as day. Her gaze lowered to the mark, and then back to him, something indescribable dawning on her face.</p><p>Hancock breathed out slowly, eyebrows knitting together as his hand began to shake.  </p><p>“Because you’re my soulmate.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all so much for reading! Don't forget to leave comments and kudos!</p><p>This chapter was the hardest for me to write thus far, because I've had the basic idea of it in my head since I started this fic, but hadn't worked out any of the details yet. So, there was a lot of writing and rewriting, then deleting, and writing again. </p><p>Apologies again for the gap between updates. My summer program has kept me insanely busy. However, I only have two weeks left, so I will be able to write more often very soon. </p><p>Don't forget to follow me on tumblr at https://mel--on--earth.tumblr.com for progress updates, ramblings, and peer-reviewed articles on the better parts of ghoul anatomy.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Soulmate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>My soulmate?</em>
</p><p>Stunned, Nora scramble to unwrap the sticky duct tape from her hand, rubbing away the tacky residue to balk at her own mark. Her brow knit together as she stared at the name on her palm. Nothing had changed about it. The name etched there still read “John McDonough.” Not John Hancock. She pursed her lips, the teeth of gears turning in her mind until they snapped into place, and the image before her suddenly became clear. Hancock’s bizarre reaction when she brought up the name “McDonough,” the rivalry between him and the mayor of Diamond City, MacCready’s insistence that she talk to Hancock when she’d mentioned the name to him. What had that damned merc said? <em>Tell the ghoul to fess up already</em>.</p><p>The heated stares, the way her skin tingled with delightful goosebumps every time he so much as glanced her way, all the attention he had paid her since she arrived in Goodneighbor, the ripple of heat that had split her down the middle when she had come to him as the Silver Shroud, and he had greeted her half naked and <em>flirted </em>with her. She felt her cheeks color at the memory.</p><p>But fuck, he had been there all along, right under her nose.</p><p>“You’re John McDonough” she breathed.</p><p>The ghoul swallowed hard, gravel rolling hesitantly in his voice as he spoke. “Well, yeah. That <em>was</em> my name. I don’t use it anymore.”</p><p>A strange woozy feeling crept up her legs, as if she had been spinning around and around for ages and suddenly came to a stop, so disoriented that she might topple over as the world continued to spiral around her. Nora found her gaze drifting back to her name on his arm, marveling at the way each line dipped and twisted over his gnarled skin. Her <em>soulmate’s </em>skin. She fought the urge to reach out and touch it, to feel a piece of her embedded into him (where had <em>that </em>sentiment come from?)</p><p>“How long…” she trailed off, mouth too numb to shape the question.</p><p>“Did I know?” he finished for her, his next words would have been painfully romantic, had he not said them with such a grave tone. “Since I first saw you.”</p><p>She looked up at that, meeting his gaze for the first time since he’d said that word. <em>Soulmate</em>. The look she found in those volcanic-black eyes was…indescribable. Dark and stormy, yet soft somehow, full of need. He had the look of both predator and prey, like he wanted to devour her, but was somehow worried that she might devour him first. His hands had jammed themselves into his pockets, and his shoulders were hunched forward defensively, unsure. Yet his eyes bore into her like a bullet, ricocheting through her stomach alongside all the butterflies. The heat of it all made her stomach drop and her breath hitch.</p><p><em>Soulmate</em>.</p><p>Hancock cleared his throat, gaze still fixed on her. “Well, I didn’t know it right away, technically speaking. I saw the mark after your fainted. That was—you know because—”</p><p>“Because we touched—or bonded, whatever it’s called?”</p><p>He nodded, voice low and rasping when he responded. “Yeah.”</p><p>Her jaw clicked at that, and something snapped painfully inside her chest. Her next words came out shaky. “Wait, you knew we bonded and you didn’t tell me?”</p><p>Hancock’s eyes fell to his shoes. “Honestly, I didn’t know all the details on that one. I knew what bonding was, Amari filled me in on some of the details, but there's still plenty I don't know. If I knew about the withdrawal I would have said something sooner, but…”</p><p>“But you didn’t” she finished for him.</p><p>He shrank in a little closer on himself. “No. I didn’t.”</p><p>“Why?” she demanded, face burning as she fought to meet his gaze. “You knew I was looking. I asked you about it and you lied.”</p><p>Hancock let out a deep sigh. One hand reached up to adjust a tricorn hat that wasn’t there, then fell lamely back to his side. Nora realized how strange it was to see him out of his usual mayoral vestments. Even in his road flannels and leather, he looked small, fragile, exposed. It softened her anger. Nora realized that his red coat must feel more like armor to him than anything he could strap on over it.</p><p>The ghoul turned to her with a sad, wistful gaze, eyes brimming with what could only be regret. “Look sunshine, it’s a long story. Gonna take a while to tell it.”</p><p>Nora’s lips pressed together in a grim line. She answered with a stern arch of her brow. “Do you have somewhere to be?”</p><p>He met her eyes, a cautious troubled look stirring in those depths, then sighed. “I’m going to need a cigarette, and a drink if ya got one.”</p><p>***</p><p>Hancock settled himself down in an intact booth and lit a cigarette while Nora made her way towards a door behind the counter marked “employees only.” He caught himself following the pendulum sway of her hips, not realizing he was staring until she turned back to ask if he preferred beer or liquor. He swatted away the part of him that wanted to say “I prefer you” and asked for a beer instead.</p><p>She returned a moment later with two gwinnett stouts, popping off the caps on the edge of the table before sliding into the booth across him, pushing a bottle towards him.</p><p>Hancock blew smoke out of his nose, heart hammering in his chest as those bright blue eyes rested on him. “I don’t really know where to start, Sunshine” he croaked.</p><p>She tapped a nail on the side of her beer bottle. “A lawyer would say ‘tell me how this all started.”</p><p>“Right.” Hancock still didn’t know what a lawyer was.</p><p>Nora waved a hand in front of her, as if the fan away the cloud of that idea. “Never mind, let’s try this.” She reached for her own pack of lights, slipping a cigarette between her lips and taking the time to light it before continuing. “I’ll ask you some questions, you answer them and I’ll listen until you run out of things to say. Then I’ll ask some more questions. How’s that sound?”</p><p>Hancock breathed a sigh. Somehow, that sounded easier than trying to thread this whole mess together into a coherent story, so he agreed. “Alright, shoot.”</p><p>There was silence while she cast her eyes down toward the ashtray between them, thinking. Aside from the occasional creak in the building’s foundation, it was eerily quiet. Not the “we’re about to get jumped” kind of quiet. More of an empty quiet that laid everything skeletal and bare around them. A “nowhere to run” kind of quiet.</p><p>Nora jutted her chin toward the mark on his forearm. “When did yours show up?”</p><p>Hancock blew smoke out his nose. “I was…what, sixteen?”</p><p>“And that was…?”</p><p>He furrowed his brow. “I dunno, a while ago?”</p><p>“Well how old are you?”</p><p>“30-something I think? I’m not really sure, sunshine.”</p><p>She raised a skeptical brow at that. “You don’t know how old you are?”</p><p>The corner of his lip curled up. “I’m practically immortal, and a little past counting all the wrinkles. The number don’t really mean much anymore.”</p><p>“Right” she nodded. “Alright, so it was at least, what, fifteen years ago that your mark appeared? But I only woke up from cryostasis in October.”</p><p>Hancock leaned forward to rest his elbow son the table. “Yeah, about that. One of the reasons this whole thing kinda freaked me out…” he rolled his neck anxiously. “My mark was cold when it showed up.”</p><p>Nora’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh.” She knew what that meant, at least. There was a long stretch of silence after that, which both seemed reluctant to break. Hancock began to jiggle his leg anxiously underneath the table. Awkward nervous energy hung thick and heavy in the air.</p><p>It was Nora who eventually found the nerve to speak. “So I was dead, huh?”</p><p>Hancock nodded, unable to meet her gaze. “Yeah, not the greatest way to find out about ‘the one’ huh?” He began to pick at the edge of the table where a splinter of wood had begun to peel away. “I mean, it’s not all that uncommon these days. Pretty likely that raiders or supermutants could’ve got ya.” A piece of the table chipped off and fell to the floor. He continued picking back the layers. “When I moved to Diamond City I tried to keep my eyes and ears open for any other Duchesnes who might still be kicking around, but it was like you never existed.” He paused, unsure whether he should say the next part. Then again, honesty might be his best policy right now. “I even got these impressions…dreams, ya know? So I had an idea of what you might look like.” Another splinter fell to the ground.</p><p>Nora’s eyes dipped down to her beer bottle, nails scratching idly at the label. “Yeah, I’ve had a few of those too.”</p><p>Hancock looked up at that. The shiver that trembled down his spine was half freaky, half…well.</p><p>“So you mentioned before."</p><p>Her eyes flitted upward to regard him through heavy eyelashes. “I always saw you before you were a ghoul though. That's why I didn't recognize you.” She held her breath in her throat a moment before offering a coy smile, adding “you weren’t exactly sore on the eyes.”</p><p>Hancock slumped back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “That guy was an idiot. I prefer the newer model.”</p><p>“Yeah? Why’s that?”</p><p>“C’mon, I told you the story. Doesn’t take much to read between the lines. I was a fucking coward back then” he spat. “When my fucking brahmin’s ass of a brother forced all the ghouls out of Diamond City, I tucked tail and rain like a kicked dog.”</p><p>She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Were you a ghoul when that all went down?”</p><p>He shook his head. “Nah, still had a smooth set of skin back then. Probably why I didn’t do more to stand up against that bully. Probably didn’t really believe it was my fight.”</p><p>Nora tilted her head to rest her chin on her hand. “You said you talked to him though, didn’t you? Before you left?”</p><p>“Yeah, but there wasn’t much in the way of brotherly love between us. When we were kids, Guy liked to shove rotten tatos down my shirt and—”</p><p>“slap your back” she finished for him.</p><p>Hancock cocked a brow at that.</p><p>She shrugged. “I dreamt about it one time.”</p><p>A chuckle escaped his lips. “Figures. Be a shame if you ever saw me in one of my finer moments” he began to study the spiderweb cracks in the table between them, tracing their paths with his fingertips. His eyes flitted upwards just long enough to see a sad, distant look bleeding over Nora’s features. He dreaded the thought of what other pathetic pastiches she’d seen of his life’s many mistakes.</p><p>“What happened to your parents?” she pressed. “I saw your mom once. You both talked about your Dad a bit.”</p><p>Hancock drawled his response, as if he’d told the story a hundred times before. “Dad was a trader. Traveled between settlements selling whatever food we didn’t need and whatever scrap he could pick up along the way. He usually didn’t run into much trouble, but when word started getting around about the great green jewel in the fens, more raiders started moving in to see what they could get out of it. Ol’ Pat got jumped by a group of ‘em. He’d been gone a week before we got word from another trader that they’d found him rotting on the side of the road.”</p><p>He paused to take a long drag of his cigarette. “Things only went downhill after that. We had no caps coming in, no clue which trade routes were safe, and Ma’ was left to take care of two boys on her own. We became isolated. Ma’ got sick, but we had no idea where to find a doctor. We did our best to help her with what we had, but neither of us knew what the hell we were doing, so she died too.”</p><p>Hancock was surprised to feel a warm touch on his hand, and the cool balm of sympathetic understanding pouring over his skin, thick like honey. He looked up to see Nora, a sad and knowing look on her face.</p><p>“I’m sorry, John.” she said softly.</p><p>He let himself lean into her touch, comforted by the tingling warmth it sent spiraling into his chest and down to his toes, and the delightful sound of his name on her lips. “Thanks sunshine, but that was a long time ago. Feels like it at least.”</p><p>“What happened after your parents passed?” Nora asked.</p><p>Hancock sighed. “My brother and I decided to head to Diamond City after that. We ended up fighting a lot, so we decided to live separately and avoid each other was much as we could. The rest is like I told you before. Brother goes crazy, drums up his fucking anti-ghoul campaign, my skinny ass ends up in Goodneighbor. The rest is history.”</p><p>“But you said you weren’t a ghoul in Diamond City. How did you go ghoul then?”</p><p>Hancock waved a hand at her. “Ah, that was nothing. When I first got to Goodneighbor, I was pretty young and crazy. So I would always go on these wild tears, ya know? Alcohol, chems—didn’t matter. I wanted to try anything and everything. Eventually, I got hold of this new experimental drug—something one of Fred’s friends cooked up. Man, the high was like nothing I’ve ever felt, but there were side effects. Woke up the next day with a hangover and a new set of skin. Decided it was a good look for me and went with it.”</p><p>Nora arched a skeptical brow. “And that’s it? No period of grieving or adjustment? It was really that easy?”</p><p>Hancock shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Guess I saw it as a chance to start over as a new man.”</p><p>Nora chewed on her lip for a moment, gaze focused on him. It wasn’t the whole truth, and he could tell by the look in her eye that she knew it, but he didn’t feel like spewing out the whole sob story just yet.</p><p>“Well you seem pretty content with how things are now” she finally said.</p><p>“Hell yeah, sister. Did more as a ghoul than I ever did as a smoothskin. You couldn’t pay me to go back.”</p><p>Nora nodded, eyes falling to her hand where it still rested on his. Her fingers, trembling with electric curiosity, began to trace the folds of his skin. Even with her callouses, she felt so soft and warm. If ghouls could get goosebumps, Hancock was sure he’d be covered in them.</p><p>“You never explained why you didn’t tell me, or why you lied when I asked about…us.”</p><p>Hancock winced at that as she turned his hand over to inspect his palm. “Hey, for the record, I’m really sorry about that. There were a lot of things to consider and I kinda choked when you brought it up.”</p><p>She nodded with what Hancock hoped was some semblance of understanding. Her fingers ghosted over a sensitive spot on the inside of his wrist. He tried not to let it distract him.</p><p>“What stopped you?” she pressed.</p><p>“Well for one,” he began, eyes following her fingers as they wandered the topography of his skin, “I knew that you’d been through a lot lately, what being thrown 200 years into the future and all.” Hancock reached up with his other hand to seize hers, delighted by the way her breath hitched when he did. He swiped his thumb over the ring still resting on her finger. “I knew you’d lost someone—someone you had a kid with. Someone you probably still care about a lot.”</p><p>She pulled her hand back, and Hancock immediately missed the warmth of her touch. He almost reached back for it, but stopped himself. Shit, maybe that had been a bad call. He couldn’t read the look on her face, but she was staring at the ring on her finger.</p><p>“Nate was…” she furrowed her brow, turning the next thought over in her mind before forming it into words. “He was a good man. But he wanted things I was reluctant to give him. No not like that” she added immediately at the jagged look Hancock had given her. “He was kind and gentle with me, but he wanted me to stay home to raise our baby while my law degree gathered dust on the shelf. I wanted…I don’t know what. I just wanted <em>more </em>than that.”</p><p>Hancock laughed weakly. “Well, you certainly got more than you bargained for when you left that vault, huh Sunshine?”</p><p>She smiled at that. “That would be an understatement, Mister Mayor.”</p><p>Hancock couldn’t help but smile back. The coy lilt of her voice and smirk of her lips when she said “Mister Mayor”—well, that really did it for him.</p><p>“Hey sunshine, can I ask you a question.”</p><p>She shrugged. “Sure.”</p><p>“Why’d you want to find your soulmate in the first place?”</p><p>She seemed caught of guard by that. “What do you mean?” she spluttered. “I mean, why not? I wanted to know. Besides, isn’t that what people do when they have a mark? Look for their soulmate?” Heat had flushed her face. It was goddamned adorable.  </p><p>“Yeah sure, I get that” Hancock responded, brow arched in amusement. Her flustered answer leaving him feeling a little more cocky. He continued: “So here I am. What happens next?”</p><p>She leaned back into her seat, one leg crossing over the other as she stared blankly at the wall behind him. “I…well, I’m not really sure. I guess I figured I’d cross that bridge when I got to it.”</p><p>The old diner grew suddenly quiet, and Hancock was sure he could hear the hiss of his cigarette burning in time with the rush of blood in his ears. Nora refused to meet his gaze—not a good sign. He could see the trepidation in her eyes, the unease of her stance. Something heavy dropped hard into the pit of his stomach.</p><p>“Listen sunshine” he sighed after a while “I’m not asking you to do anything you don’t wanna do. If you aren’t looking for anything, or if ghouls just ain’t your thing—”</p><p>“No, it’s not that!” she interjected, eyes suddenly snapping to him. Hancock’s froze as she continued to stammer: “That doesn’t bother me, I mean, it has nothing to with you. It’s just…” she bit her lip, eyes cast down as she chewed the words over. She took a deep breath, collecting herself, then set her gaze steadily on him. “I just need time, okay? To process this. Think it over.”</p><p>Hancock’s heart took flight from his chest. That wasn’t a no. Maybe he—<em>they</em> still had a chance here.</p><p>“Yeah, I hear ya sweetheart” he said, trying not to smile <em>too </em>wide. “Can I make a suggestion though?”</p><p>“I’m listening.”</p><p>“Maybe we should agree not to wander to far from each other from now on. Hard to get anything done heaving in a bucket all day while you run around the Commonwealth. I mean, hell, I may be a bit out of practice, but I’m still a damn good shot. I could watch your back if you’d like.”</p><p>She leaned forward, a smile playing at her lips. “Is that so?”</p><p>“Yeah, sure. I’ll shoot at anything that tries to cause you trouble, or just stand around and look pretty. Whatever you need. Free of charge.”  </p><p>Nora studied him for a moment, considering his offer. Then suddenly, she sat up a little straighter in her seat, and a light bulb flicked on behind her eyes. “Oh!” she cried as her face lit up.</p><p>Hancock raised a brow at that. “Penny for your thoughts, sunshine?”</p><p>A wicked smile spread across Nora’s face, eyes crackling with electricity. “Hancock, have you ever been to the Glowing Sea?” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading! As always, comments and kudos make me feel all warm and fuzzy. </p><p>Another challenging chapter to right because there was so much to air out between these two, I didn't want it to become an info dump (it might have turned into an info dump). Regardless, I'm excited to get things moving along in this relationship. </p><p>A QUESTION FOR YOU GUYS: I'm on the fence about writing smut into this fic. I've written sexual tension before, but never straight up smutty smut. Is that a thing that y'all would like to see? Or are y'all just here for the feels? Let me know in the comments!</p><p>And finally, follow me on tumblr at https://mel--on--earth.tumblr.com for periodic updates and pictures of my cat.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Little to the Imagination</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The whole prospect of leaving Goodneighbor hadn’t felt real until Hancock’s boots hit the rubble of the road, pack slung over his shoulder and shotgun warm in his hands. It should have been a familiar feeling, but it wasn’t. When had that happened?</p><p>He had wasted no time in saying his goodbyes to Goodneighbor—in part because he knew it wasn’t <em>really </em>goodbye. Charlie and Marowski were indifferent as usual to his departure, although the limey robot had made a point to glance Nora’s way when he inquired about any “sightseeing” the mayor had planned for his travels.  </p><p>Fahrenheit had been curt as usual, but agreed that it was high time he got out and got his own hands dirty for once. She had also shared a few private words with Nora before they left—redhead to redhead, he supposed. Fahrenheit was civil, in her way, but she grew very firm in asserting something that sounded strangely like “don’t get him killed.”</p><p>Daisy seemed the most positive about the whole thing, even offered them a discount on any supplies they needed on their way out, which was a little out of character for the old ghoul. He’d think it suspicious, if he hadn’t caught that knowing look in her eye when she’d spied one of his lingering glances at Nora. If he could, he’d have blushed. It was a small comfort though, knowing that he had someone like Daisy watching the front gates while he was away. Ol’ gal didn’t miss a thing.</p><p>It didn’t take long for Nora to gather what few belongings she had from her room in the Rexford, including her mutt, who he learned was (somehow appropriately) named “Dogmeat.” Luckily, it had only taken a few sniffs and a cursory glance towards Nora for the hound to decide he was an ally, and not a chew toy.</p><p>Travelling with Nora grew quickly on Hancock. Sure, the soulmate thing was part of it—he certainly felt more at ease having her within his line of sight all hours of the day. But there were other perks too. For example, it was one thing to look at the gal and take in all those soft, plush, pre-war features. It was another thing entirely to watch that softness go bright red and sharp out in the wasteland. He’d known she had to be tough to make it to Goodneighbor in one piece, but holy shit was she <em>something </em>in a fight. She’d warned him early on that she was a useless shot, but close up she was utterly vicious. She could wipe a guy’s head clean off his shoulders before he could remember which end to scream out of. Then, she’d walk away with nothing but a snap of the wrist to flick the blood off her swatter, like shaking rain off an umbrella.</p><p>And the way she moved! Technically speaking, it was no different than any other gal he’d seen in a fight, but when it was Nora it was just, well, different. He caught his eyes floating to the line of her legs, watching as one foot planted itself into the ground in front of her, the other launching forward to follow through with a swing, the curve of her ass popping at the end of her arc.</p><p>The vault suit left little to his imagination.</p><p>Which was unfortunate. The first night they spent together, Nora had offered to take first watch, insisting that she hated waking up in the middle of the night. Unfortunately for Hancock, he couldn’t get a wink of sleep with the view she afforded him. It was his own fault, really. All it would’ve taken was a shot of med-X and him rolling over and he’d have been out like a light. But his more, uh, animal instincts had his lids creaking open to sneak a peek of her from the shadows, gaze following her as she shifted from one leg to the other and gazed out on the streets of Boston. Her suit was like nothing but a thick coat of blue paint. He could watch her hamstrings stretch and flow as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, the slight squeeze of a love handle at her waist when she lifted her arms up and stretched her sides, the soft roll of her glutes when she paced. When it came time for her to wake him, she’d turned to him and softly exclaimed “Oh good! You’re already up,” having seen him lying there with his eyes wide open.</p><p>He’d hoped that was the only time she’d noticed him watching. He didn’t want to come off as too strong, or starved for that matter.</p><p>But that wasn’t the end of it for Hancock, oh no. It was hard going those first few days on the road. Good thing the two of ‘em had this shorter trip between here and Diamond City to get a feel for their situation, because it was a helluva challenge holding himself back some days. Usually when Hancock was interested in someone, he wouldn’t spare a second thought about reaching out for a gentle touch here, or dropping a risqué remark there. But he’d never wanted someone like he wanted Nora. The feelings she evoked in him were unlike anything he’d experienced before—visceral, powerful, and real in a way that frightened him into taking things slow. No that he minded the idea of moving things along. After all, he’d lost count of the number of times he’d fantasized about trapping her against a wall with his body, or reaching out to taste the sweat on her skin after watching her take down a raider. His entire body begged for her touch, absolutely craved it. But his heart didn’t want to scare the poor thing off, or take advantage. Even if he sensed a hint of interest on her end, he knew better than to believe everything the bond told him without a healthy dose of skepticism.</p><p>So he waited it out, occupying his more carnal thoughts by striking up conversation, asking questions, all those things he’d told other people to do when they wanted to woo someone, but never did himself. He learned that she hated hot humid days, but didn’t mind when it rained, and she missed when it used to <em>really</em> snow this time of year. She loved cats, but was wary of the strays they spied skulking around Boston, and the smell of dandy boy apples made her sick to her stomach.</p><p>Other things, he learned through observation. Hancock was quick to confirm what Nick had told him—she was smart as a fucking whip, and quick to adapt. She already walked the ‘wealth like she was born stomping all that radioactive dirt. She knew how to break the carapace of a radroach to get at the good (read: edible) meat inside, without blanching at the crunchy gunk that covered her hands afterwards. She could cook up a Molotov in under a minute, and knew exactly where to throw it to lure away a herd of supermutants they didn’t have the energy to fight.</p><p>And, she loved the smell of leather.</p><p>Hancock learned that last tidbit on their second day on the road. They had been trying to inch their way around the Boston Commons, hoping that staying in proximity would keep them away from anything unfriendly, while also keeping enough distance to avoid meeting something even more unfriendly. He figured Nora knew the risk of ferals when she made to cut through a small graveyard—it was common knowledge for any wastelander after all. But the gal must not have encountered many cemeteries in her travels.</p><p>He had only been a few paces behind her when he saw a withered hand reach up from the necrotic muck and grasp her ankle, yanking her to the ground with a wet snarl and a flash of blue. The cry that escaped her lips as her body hit the muddy earth caused Hancock’s stomach to twist and the blood to freeze in his veins.</p><p>Without thinking, his trigger finger sent the spray of two shells straight into the fucker’s back. He  watched the half-decomposed body go limp, then, with no chance for his mind to catch up with the situation, another gurgling snarl sent him swinging in the other direction. Nora was half-lying in the mud, crawling backwards way from a ghoul, forgetting the perfectly-lethal swatter in her hand in the fog of panic. Hancock reloaded with shaky breath and trembling fingers before snuffing whatever life remained in its desecrated body with a merciful drill of metal.</p><p>By the time he’d helped Nora to her feet, the sounds of gunfire had already drawn a horde of ferals toward them, and they were surrounded. He heard it before he saw it—that wet, earthy sound of air rasping through a half-eroded esophagus, the squelch of putrid limbs dragging through the boggy muck of the cemetery, and the <em>stench</em>. Christ, he hoped he didn’t smell like that.</p><p>Hancock whipped around to face the ten or so ferals Now drawing near at a sickening crawl. A lump formed in his throat. He and Nora could certainly <em>try</em> to fight their way through, but they’d be overwhelmed eventually, especially if any more of the bastards showed up. A quick look around told him that the shortcut they had intended to take was now blocked by a line of ghouls, all queued up to eat the flesh from her pretty face. Other than that choked pathway, the graveyard was surrounded on all sides by tall, smooth concrete with no handholds to speak of, and throwing a grenade would just blow both of them to hell. They were cornered.</p><p>The gears turned desperate in his mind, their frantic grind quickened by the look on Nora’s face. No way in hell was he letting her die here.</p><p>He had to act quick, so he made a split-second decision, praying to god or atom or whoever was listening that it fucking worked.</p><p>“Get behind me” he whispered to Nora through gritted teeth.</p><p>He could hear the confusion in her voice. “What?” she hissed back.</p><p>Hancock whipped around to face her, tearing the hat off his head and plopping it on top of her mess of mud-caked hair. “They never attack when it’s just me” he explained as he shrugged off his coat, “because I look like one of them, or maybe I stink like rotting flesh too, who knows.” He threw the coat over her shoulders, then placed both hands on her shoulders to push her into the nearest corner. Too stunned to protest, she went along with it, going still when the Hancock pressed his hands to the wall on either side of her, effectively pinning her between his body and the wall. He tried to ignore the soft “oh” that escaped her lips.</p><p>“If I can throw them off your scent, they might leave and give us a chance to get the hell outta here” Hancock explained, fingertips pressed hard into the wall behind her, trying not to think about the warmth of her body against his chest. He made a point of staring at the gray stone just over her shoulder, perfectly aware of the hair’s breadth between them. Looking down, he could see her knees disappear between his legs, and he was sure his heartbeat had her practically bouncing off his chest—they were <em>that </em>close. He was suddenly afraid to breathe.  </p><p>There was a long stretch of silence, punctuated by the slip-slop of ferals moving through the mud behind him. After a while, Nora whispered “I think it’s working.”</p><p>“They leavin’?” he asked, voice sounding more strained than he would’ve liked.</p><p>“I think so, but they’re taking their damn time.”</p><p>“Just hang tight then sunshine. At this point, we got nothing but time.” She laughed at the dark-humored tone to his voice, his blood humming with content at the bright vibration of it against his chest.</p><p>After a moment, she began to shift beneath him. She wasn’t trying to escape—probably just wanted to get a better look of what was going on behind him. Still, the motion pressed her hips right up into him, pushing an involuntary gust of air from his lungs at the sudden rush of blood and heat that followed.</p><p>“You alright?” she asked.</p><p>“Peachy.”</p><p>Another stretch of silence as she angled her head to peer over his shoulder, her nose brushing the edge of his collarbone.</p><p>“By the way, you don’t stink like the ferals” she remarked.  </p><p>“Ya flirtin’ with me sunshine?” He chanced a sidelong glance just in time to catch Nora wrinkle her nose in amusement. He felt his heartbeat quicken.</p><p>“You said you thought you smelled like them earlier. Well, you don’t. You smell muskier. Like leather.”</p><p>Hancock swallowed. “Huh.”</p><p>There was a pause, in which he could practically feel her turning her next words over in her head. She shifted again, body stretching up against him to whisper a soft tickle of breath past his ear. “Don’t worry, I like it.” He could hear the grin in her voice.  </p><p>Hancock pulled back just far enough to regard her with a questioning look. She met his gaze, eyes wide at first, before they narrowed in thought, as if she caught something in his gaze that she hadn’t expected. His heart practically stopped at the sight of her in that moment. Here she was, pressed against a wall, mud splattered on her flushed cheeks, gaze meeting his from beneath rust-colored eyelashes. Seeing her like this, fully enveloped in his clothes, in him, sent shivers racing across his skin. He realized how little empty space stood between them, how easy it would be to lean forward and capture her lips. In that moment, he wanted so much for them to be lovers, so he could close that space between them, so he could hold her, drive his hips into hers. Would she welcome it if he did? Would she gasp and sigh at his touch, press further into him as he whined with need? Would she want him nearly as much as he wanted her?</p><p>As if she could read his mind, Nora tilted her head upwards, his name tumbling sweetly from her lips: “John…”</p><p>He swallowed, not realizing he’d leaned closer until his forehead brushed the brim of his hat on her head. “Yeah sunshine?”</p><p>She paused, lips parting as her eyes darted to his mouth. He saw the briefest flash of possibility dance in her eyes, and for a moment he swore she was about to…</p><p>But then she tore her eyes away, and the magic of the moment dissolved around them.</p><p>“They’ve cleared out. We should go before they get wise and come back.”</p><p>Hancock nodded, sweaty palms sliding away from the wall as he stepped away from her. The sudden growth of empty space between them planted a hollow feeling at the base of his throat. In an attempt at nonchalance, he motioned to the exit with a nod of his head. “After you, sunshine.”</p><p>She wore his clothes until they made camp that evening. When he donned them once more, they were warm with the smell of her. He slept heavy that night, cloaked in her scent, wishing it would cling to him forever. But by the morning, it was gone, replaced by the musk of campfire smoke and leather.  </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>Returning to the Great Green Jewel was like being thrown headfirst into the past Hancock so desperately wished he could leave behind.</p><p>The Diamond City of today was nothing like the home he once knew, yet somehow exactly how he remembered it. Some things hadn’t changed a bit—the smell of hot noodle broth hanging thick over the market place, the gargantuan green monster that was The Wall looming in the distance, the look on people’s faces as they peered down at him from the upper stands, like they’d just huffed brahmin shit. Other parts were entirely alien, like the big <em>Publick Occurrences </em>sign that greeted him right at the gate (Piper had really taken strides with her paper since he left), the appearance of what Nora explained was an all-faith’s chapel, and—oh right, the distinct lack of ghouls within the city walls. That last one shouldn’t have surprised him, considering the care Nora took in making sure every inch of his skin was covered before they approached the front gates. Still, something about looking at this once-familiar place through the strange lens of the dusty, cracked goggles of a dead raider’s gas mask felt a little on the nose.</p><p>The more he looked at it, the more he realized that he couldn’t wait to leave.</p><p>Nora must have sensed the tension in his shoulders. When they turned the corner onto a side street, she nudged him into a damp corner out of sight of the marketplace. Her concern was plain on her face.</p><p>“You know, you can still head outside and wait for me there if you’d prefer” she said.</p><p>He shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance. “Why would I want to do that?”</p><p>Her lips pressed into a firm line. “You’re uncomfortable.” It wasn’t a question.  </p><p>“I’d be more uncomfortable if I left you here alone.”</p><p>She screwed up her face at that. “You know I lived here, right? Besides its Diamond City. Not like I’m going to get stabbed in the street in broad daylight, right?” she gave him a small smile that he couldn’t return.</p><p>“Yeah, but you might get shot if someone decides you’re a synth.”</p><p>Her face fell at that. “Look, I just don’t want you to feel like you <em>have</em> to be here. I know coming back here must be…hard.”</p><p>Hancock waved a hand at that. “Ah, don’t worry about me sunshine. I’ll be alright. Let’s just go get what he came here for.”</p><p>She regarded him for a moment before nodding and stepping back. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go. I don’t want to stay here to long.”</p><p>***</p><p>They followed the hazy glow of a neon heart into a damp alley, the words “Valentine Detective Agency” a welcome sight in what felt like dangerous territory for Hancock. Nora pushed open the heavy metal door without knocking, announcing their arrival with a simple “Hey, I’m back!”</p><p>Hancock followed her through the doorway, face cracking into an involuntary grin at the familiar sight of overstuffed filing cabinets and desks littered with folders, empty oil cans, and dirty ashtrays. The detective himself was seated in a dimly-lit corner, cigarette dangling from his lips as he hunched over a spread of papers and notes laid out before him. He looked up at the sound of Nora’s voice, lips stretching into a smile as he pushed himself away from his work.</p><p>“Glad to see you made it back in one piece. I see you brought trouble with you.”</p><p>“Missed you too, Nick” Hancock grumbled as he pulled off his gas mask, grateful for the wash of cool air over his sweat-slick face.</p><p>Nora dropped her pack in a nearby corner. “<em>Trouble</em> is coming with us to the Glowing Sea. Figured we could use another rad-proof gun on our side.”</p><p>The synth nodded, eyes sliding between the two of them with a calculating look. “I can’t say no to that. But I, uh, might need to ask a favor of you before we head out.”</p><p>Nora raised a brow. “What kind of favor?”</p><p>He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Got another missing person’s case. Just got word of it this morning. Wanted to jump on it before the trail went cold.”</p><p>She pursed her lips. “Could it be the institute again?”</p><p>Nick shook his head, eyes glowing through the haze of cigarette smoke. “I don’t think so. I’ve got good reason to believe that this one didn’t go far.”</p><p>Nora bit her lip. “I don’t know Nick, we weren’t planning on staying that long, especially with an illegal ghoul in tow” she motioned to Hancock, who responded with a sarcastic salute.</p><p>“Normally I’d agree,” Nick continued, “but I have my reservations about leaving this one to sit for too long.” He turned his gaze to the ghoul in the room “unless Hancock has any objections?”</p><p>Hancock shifted his stance. He didn’t like the idea of hanging around Diamond City longer than he needed to, but hell, if someone was missing…</p><p>He shrugged. “Why not? Always hoped I’d get the chance to play detective with the famous Nick Valentine.”</p><p>Nora offered him a smile of thanks from across the room that made his heart sing. He returned it with a crooked smirk, eyes puppy-dog soft as he regarded her through the dim fluorescent light. Nick cleared his throat.</p><p>“I wouldn’t get too excited. This one might not take much legwork to solve” he drawled.</p><p>“Why’s that?” Nora asked.</p><p>Nick pulled the cigarette from between his lips, smoke seeping from the cracks in his face and neck as he answered. “A Diamond City guard actually brought the case to me. Gal who went missing is his soulmate, and they’re bonded” He paused to fix his eyes on Nora. “No one’s seen her for days, but if the guy’s bond is to be believed, she hasn’t left the city at all. She’s still here, and with how the bond works—”</p><p>“that means she's still here somewhere.” Nora finished, brow furrowed.</p><p>Nick hummed in agreement. “So all we have to do is comb through Diamond City to find out where she went. Hell, you know as well as I that the walls have ears around here. Someone has to have seen or heard something.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “So, think you’re up for it?”  </p><p>Nora glanced towards Hancock. When he nodded his affirmation, she turned back to the synth with a glint in her eye and smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, thank you for reading and leaving comments and kudos!</p><p>Thank especially to those of you who shared their feelings in response to my question about smutty content. I've decided that I'm just going to proceed and write what feels natural. If I get to the point where things are happening between Hancock and Nora and find that there is smut in my heart, the rating for this fic might go up. Otherwise, things will proceed with the usual unresolved tension. </p><p>My fall semester has started and it's going to be a busy one, so I will not have very much time to write. Still, I am obsessed with these two and really excited for this story to unfold, so I will write as much as I am able to. </p><p>Follow me on tumblr at https://mel--on--earth.tumblr.com for occasional updates!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Hot-Blooded</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was odd watching Hancock step through the front door of Home Plate. It made Nora realize how much her life had changed in the past few months. When she first arrived in Diamond City, everything had been strange and alien, from the shacks and stalls littering the once-green field, to the psycho-rattled guards in their umpire helmets clutching swatters and pipe pistols with twitching white knuckles. She eventually managed to settle in, and Home Plate had helped with that. Although the space initially felt like living in an unfinished basement, Piper had been a great help in making it her own. Looking at it now, she didn’t even spare a thought to the shiny countertops and dainty doilies of her old life. This place had become the familiar rock she clutched to in the face of even stranger territory. Different as it was from the life she once knew, this was the closest thing she had to home now.</p><p>Which was why Hancock’s presence here was so striking. He was causing something once unfamiliar to be displaced by something even less familiar. The ghoul had added such a confusing layer to life in the wasteland, it made Nora realize how much other parts of her post-war world had become bizarrely normal.</p><p>Even more odd was the realization that Nora hadn’t hosted anyone for over 200 years. In her old life, she’d have felt the urge to tidy up, or put on a holotape while she fetched some lemonade or a few glasses of wine. As she watched Hancock spin around, taking in the space, she wondered if a “native” wastelander would offer him a nuka cola from the fridge. Or maybe a beer?</p><p>A low whistle disrupted her thoughts.</p><p>“Damn. Nice place ya got here.”</p><p>She perked up at that. “Thanks! Piper helped me decorate. Pretty crazy all that cool stuff you can still find laying around Boston.”</p><p>He nodded, peering up at the ceiling. “What about the lights? Last I heard Piper wasn’t much of an electrician.”</p><p>Nora peered up at the strings of exposed bulbs hanging from the rafters. “Oh, that was Nick. None of the old lights were working, so he insisted on fixing them up for me. Apparently he did that sort of thing a lot before he started the agency.”</p><p>Hancock nodded. “Yeah, that sounds right. Nicky is pretty savvy with anything that sparks or beeps.”</p><p>They both fell silent then. Hancock took to examining an Unstoppables poster he must have seen a hundred times before. Nora was suddenly very interested in her shoes.</p><p>What a mess.  </p><p>Nora hadn’t considered the possibility that they would end up at her home in Diamond City. It wasn’t until Nick brought up the new missing person’s case that they had even considered staying in town for more than a few hours. But then Nick had spied the circles under her eyes and refused to spill a single detail of the case until they both got a good night’s sleep, exhausted as they were from their precarious trip from Goodneighbor to the Fens. Neither Nora nor Hancock had the energy to argue, so they agreed to meet Nick after a full night of sleep..</p><p>The question of where they would lay their heads didn’t come up until Nora and Hancock were out the door, standing awkwardly under the misty red glow of the Nick’s neon sign. Hancock had mumbled something about getting a room at the Dugout Inn, but Nora wouldn’t hear of it. “There are <em>holes</em> in the walls there. And besides, someone could see you and report it to security” she had chided. “Just stay at my place. It’s safer.”</p><p>So here they were, shuffling around her kitchen refusing to look at each other like a couple of awkward teenagers, despite the fact that Nora had no idea what they should be so nervous about. They’d camped together more than a few times now. What was so different about sleeping in the same home together?  </p><p>It suddenly struck Nora that Hancock might have seen her offer as a proposition, interpreting it as a request for someone to warm her bed that night. Nora’s eyes slid down to the frayed seam of the ghoul’s trousers. Was that even an option? Did going ghoul affect <em>that </em>at all? He certainly gave the impression that everything was in order down there. Her mind flashed back to the night he’d found her at the Third Rail, when she was all twisted about how the hell she was going to find Virgil in a miles-wide radioactive crater, and Mayor Hancock had appeared from out of the blue to offer whiskey and conversation, and not to mention all that goddamn <em>charm </em>of his.</p><p>
  <em>Ah, so you treat all the ladies this way?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Depends. You looking to be treated? </em>
</p><p>Maybe he <em>was</em> trying to get into her bed. Maybe she didn’t mind. She was more worried by the latter.</p><p>It had been difficult for Nora to process this <em>thing </em>between her and Hancock. Sure people had given it a name when they talked about “soulmates” and “bonds,” but Nora couldn’t help but feel that it was more complicated than that. Sometimes, the feelings that itched at her skin felt like they weren’t her own. They came in powerful rushes, moving against her like a tidal wave of carnal desire that urged her into his arms, to his wicked mouth. When she laid in her bedroll at night, listening to the heavy thud of his boots as he paced the perimeter of their camp, she’d find herself imagining what it would be like to ride the buck of his hips, what sounds he would make as she wrapped herself around him. Those moments belonged to the bond, she was certain. They were loud and insistent, begging to be heard. More disconcerting was that they didn’t quite feel like <em>her </em>thoughts. So she pushed them away, refusing to lend them her attention while she tried to sort out her own feelings on her soulmate.</p><p>But there were other, more subtle notions that had crept to the front of her consciousness during their journey from Goodneighbor. They were quiet thoughts, easy to silence in the moment, but more want to linger for their sincerity. They snuck up on her at odd moments and cast long shadows across her mind. They were the warmth that sprang up in her abdomen whenever he flashed a devilish grin at her—the one he reserved for dirty jokes and herding supermutants into a grenade trap. Or the gentle way he’d mutter her name when he woke her up to take watch. That time in the cemetery, when he hadn’t even hesitated to stand between her and a pack of ghouls. The strength of him when he pressed her against that wall. The feel of dense, lean muscle on his small frame. The smell of leather.</p><p>The mere thought of it had that warmth pooling in her belly now. It felt eerily similar to memories of her younger years, when she’d wait anxiously in her parent’s living room for Nate to pick her up for a date, or when she’d bought her first set of nice lingerie for their wedding night.</p><p>It was a feeling she’d felt before. That was why it scared her. Because she knew it was <em>real</em>.</p><p>Nora found herself biting the inside of her cheek, suddenly anxious to break the silence hanging between them.</p><p>“Can I offer you a beer?” she asked.</p><p>Hancock turned to face her, hands shoving themselves into his pockets and eyes going warm as he flashed her a smile. “Sure, I could use a drink.”</p><p>Nora nodded, exhaling nervously as she turned to fetch two unlabeled beer bottles from the fridge. She tried not to think about the way her heart fluttered when he looked at her like that.</p><p>***</p><p>They ended up in the living room, seated on opposite ends of the couch. Nora had lit a small fire in her makeshift wood stove, and the radio hummed pleasantly in the background. Hancock commented on Travis’s significant improvements in broadcasting as of late, which had led Nora to tell the story of Vadim’s “brilliant plan” to fix Diamond City radio. Hancock got a kick out of the old bartender playing matchmaker. “Always knew he was a softy” he had chuckled.</p><p>They chatted a little about the people in Diamond City. Hancock practically scoffed when Nora mentioned her first time wandering into the upper stands, and the cold greeting she’d received from a particularly stodgy Mr. Handy. That had led her to tell him about the Miss Nanny who had just married the schoolteacher, and the conversation they’d had about love that led to the match. Then, nervous at the sudden turn to the topic of romance, Nora switched to recounting the time she’d helped Sheng clean the water supply, explaining why she insisted on boiling all of her water herself before drinking it now.</p><p>Later, after the wood stove had chased out the December chill, Hancock shrugged off his red coat, tossing it onto a nearby chair and rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. Nora had been explaining how people <em>actually </em>used to play baseball, but she lost her train of thought when she spied the bandanna wrapped around his forearm, and she fell silent.</p><p>Hancock was reaching down to unbutton his faded blue vest  when he noticed the sudden quiet. “Don’t mind me sunshine, just getting comfortable” he said. “I’m a bit hot-blooded, so I warm up faster than—” he stopped, following her gaze to the scrap of cloth on his arm. “Ah” he said.</p><p>Nora bit the inside of her cheek, wondering. “How do you feel about it? The mark?”</p><p>Hancock tossed his vest to the side and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, looking slightly caught-off-guard as he crossed his arms over his chest. He offered a nervous smile in response. “What do you mean?”</p><p>She shrugged. “I don’t know, we haven’t talked about it since…after what happened at the Pickman Gallery. And you always cover it up like that. Does it bother you?”</p><p>Hancock let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, that. Force of habit really. Guess I just didn’t really relish the idea of looking at some poor dead gal’s name every day. S’pose I can’t use that excuse anymore.”</p><p>Nora raised a brow at that. “Excuse?”</p><p>Hancock offered a weak smile. “I’m sure I don’t gotta tell ya that one of these things comes with a whole lotta complicated emotional baggage.”</p><p>Nora let out a grave chuckle. “I know exactly what you mean.”</p><p>Hancock started to tug the knot of the bandanna loose, slowly unwrapping it from his arm. “Yeah, well, imagine having one when you’re sixteen, before you can even tell your upper brain from your lower brain.”</p><p>“And your soulmate is on ice” she added flatly.</p><p>Hancock’s face fell, and there was a beat of silence as he peeled away that last of the bandanna to study the mark on his arm. “What about you sunshine? How do you fell about this whole mess?”</p><p>She considered that for a moment, worrying her lip with her teeth as she thought. “I don’t know” she finally answered. “I’ve never had a soulmate before.” She paused, eyes lowering to study the beer in her hand. “Never gotten to know a ghoul before either, or been with one.”</p><p>She could hear the smile in his reply. “If you’re worried about <em>that</em>, I can tell you it’s like riding a bike. Just because you try out a different model doesn’t mean the mechanics change. You’re still riding a bike.”</p><p>Nora felt a flush rise to her cheeks. “Oh, I wasn’t—”</p><p>“Relax sunshine.” Nora’s gaze flicked up to Hancock, who was smiling the warm, heart-melting smile again. It made her cheeks grow even hotter. She must have looked utterly pink.</p><p>“Listen, it’s like I said before,” he continued “I’m not trying to by pushy. If ghouls aren’t your thing—”</p><p>“That’s the problem though! she cut in. “How would I know if I’ve never been with one?”</p><p>Hancock seemed to consider his next words carefully. She could feel his trepidation bleeding through the bond. When he finally spoke, he did so slowly, meticulously, like defusing a bomb.  “Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to…exploring a little. If that’s what you’d like to do. Get a feel for things, ya know?”</p><p>Nora’s heart hammered at that, and she had trouble meeting his gaze.</p><p>He wanted to try. Did that mean he wanted her? Had he also been troubled by images of voracious lovemaking? Those vicious fantasies involving hungry hands and snapping hips that the mark snuck into her daydreams? Even now, she shooed them away as she rubbed her thighs together, praying the ghoul beside her didn’t notice their effect on her.</p><p>“I don’t know” she admitted. “The mark makes things so confusing sometimes.”</p><p>What did she want? Here he had just laid his cards on the table, yet Nora still couldn’t see her own hand. She kept telling herself that her feelings would make themselves known with time, but the longer she traveled with Hancock the more the mark seemed to influence her, and the more confused she felt. It was becoming so hard to parse out what belonged to her and what was just part of the bond. She didn’t want this bond to dictate her actions. She still wanted to be Nora.</p><p>But at the same time, she wondered if she had been spending too much time inside her head. over-intellectualizing. Maybe now was the time to move from theory to practice and try…something more. He <em>was </em>offering after all. Would it hurt to test the waters? Just a little? </p><p>“Maybe…if we went slow?” she asked.</p><p>The ghoul seemed mildly surprised by that response. “Okay, yeah sure. What’d you have in mind?”</p><p>She paused, chewing the inside of her cheek, before setting her beer on the coffee table with a hesitant <em>clink</em>.</p><p>“Could I…just try touching you? You know, just to make things more real than what’s in my head?”</p><p>His expression fixed itself into a mask of nonchalance, but she caught the bob in his throat as he swallowed his nerves and shrugged. “Sure, I don’t mind.”</p><p>Nora considered him for a moment. The ghoul’s eyes were fixed on her, dark and hot like burning coal, awaiting her next move. He was still sitting reclined on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table. He’d thrown one arm over the back of the couch feigning indifference, but there was no mistaking the shaky pull of his breath, the slight part of his lips, the burn of his gaze. When she scooted closer, she saw the muscle of his thigh’s clench ever so slightly, then immediately soften.</p><p>Her mark tingled with excitement.</p><p>Nora’s eyes were first drawn to the opening of his white shirt, where the lapel parted to reveal the exposed skin of his chest. She placed a tentative hand there, wondering at the heat radiating off his rough-hewn skin. The texture was different, but not unpleasant. She could feel the pulse of his heart in his chest.</p><p>“You really are warm-blooded” she said in what was barely a whisper.</p><p>“Told you so” he retorted, the vaguest strain in his voice.</p><p>Realizing she was still holding him practically at arm’s length, she scooted even closer until her leg bumped his. Her skin sighed at the warmth. She pressed into it, his pulse quickening beneath her fingertips in response. The sensation sent a thrill of shivers down her spine, urging her other hand to his breastbone. She allowed both palms to slide curiously across the planes of his chest, then slipping over his shoulders to grasp the lean, corded muscle there.</p><p>The sound of a sharp inhale drew her eyes upward. Her heart skipped a beat as they locked gazes. His obsidian eyes were glowing orange in the warm light of the wood stove, and she could read a mix of restraint and want spiraling through the bond. She wondered if he was uncomfortable.</p><p>“Doing okay?” she asked, voice soft.  </p><p>He chuckled, the sound vibrating warm in his chest. “Don’t worry about me sunshine, I’ll tell ya if I want you to stop.”</p><p>Her eyes searched his. “Well, do you?”</p><p>He shook his head slowly, eyes serious. “No.”</p><p>“Do you want to touch me?”</p><p>He paused, eyes flickering briefly to her lips. Nora held his breath as he reached one tentative hand up to trace the line of her jaw, fingers brushing her neck, the shell of her ear, then disappearing into her ginger curls.</p><p>It was then that something else rushed through the bond, hot and electric and hungry. Hancock must have felt it too, because she could feel his shoulders go suddenly stiff. For a moment, she considered pulling away, worried by the sudden surge of whatever it was that was being fed to them through the bond. Then, came another wave, and Nora could feel Hancock’s fingers twist into her hair, hand pulling into a fist that sent a wave of delicious tension trickling down her scalp.</p><p>Everything was a blur after that. Nora felt her leg swing over Hancock’s lap, thighs settling on either side of his waist as his other hand tangled into her hair. Then, she was surging forward, lips crashing against his, hands sliding down his shirt to feel the knotted muscle of his back. She felt him groan into her mouth as she licked the taste of beer from his lips and tongue. His hands untangled from her hair, sliding down the curve of her waist before reaching down to cup the bottom of her ass, fingers bruising the soft flesh there. The roll of his hips against hers caused her mind to race uncontrollably and her stomach to clench.</p><p>Then her name escaped his lips. “Nora” and there was a voracious hunger to it that was so unlike his usual warmth. It abruptly grounded her, snapping her thoughts back to reality.</p><p>She was on her couch, rutting against John Hancock. <em>Kissing </em>John Hancock. Had she made that move? Or did the bond make it for her?</p><p>That last thought ripped her from the heat of it all, and she pulled back with a sharp inhale. He leaned forward to follow at first, lids heavy over his eyes. But then he lifted his gaze to see the look of horror on her face, and he pulled back in turn.  </p><p>She wanted to panic, to scramble free of his grasp, to retreat from his questioning gaze. To get angry at him for letting her—</p><p>But she had started it, and she hadn’t told him to stop.  </p><p>His voice broke the silence, low and rasping. “Hey, you alright there sunshine?”</p><p>Had she wanted this? Had <em>Nora </em>been the one who wondered what he tasted like? How he would respond to her touch? Or had that all been the bond? Was that look in his eyes real desire, or something cooked up by some biological imperative? Where did Nora end and the soulmark begin?</p><p>She felt Hancock’s grip leave her body. “Nora?”</p><p>She pushed herself off of him, breath shaking, eyes refusing to meet his gaze. By the time her feet met solid concrete, the silence had become too large, too enormously hollow. She didn’t know how to fill it.</p><p>“Sorry, I…” she stumbled over her own thoughts, mind screeching to a halt at the sudden space between them. Assured that things had devolved into something completely unsalvageable, she spun on her heel and marched up the rickety steps to her bedroom loft without a word.</p><p>Hancock did not follow.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks again for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! I'm SO excited to hear your thoughts on this chapter. I hope you enjoyed! :)</p><p>As always, follow me on tumblr at https://mel--on--earth.tumblr.com for updates and pictures of my cat.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Leap</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hancock lay sprawled out on the couch, eyes following the spin of a ceiling fan until morning light seeped through the cracks of the ceiling, streaming dusty rays of sunshine through the cracks in the walls. The ghoul’s thoughts were shooting past him like stars, racing around his mind too fast for him to grasp at, spilling over the edges of his skull and trickling away into the anxious pool of regret churning in his belly.  </p><p>To say he was frustrated and confused would be an understatement. The events of the last evening had left a gaping hole in his already-aching chest, like a sealed infection that begged for old wounds to be opened and sterilized. He had spent so long worrying about old scars on the surface, he’d forgotten that rejection could sting too, and damn did it sting like hell.</p><p>He <em>had </em>her. For one fucking beautiful moment his soulmate had literally fallen right into his lap. He was holding her, kissing her, tasting her taste him. She’d been soft and real beneath his touch, her breath warm against his mouth, grasping at him as if she craved him just as much as he burned for her. He’d let himself think for one second that she wanted this, that she wanted him. Then it had all turned to ash in his mouth.</p><p>She pulled back, and the look on her face. The look in her fucking eyes. A moment before she had looked utterly ravenous, lids heavy and pupils blown wide, hair wild where he’d run his fingers through the strands. Then, it was like the spell had broken. She’d woken up not knowing where she was or how she got there, unsure as to why her hands had crept under his shirt, how her lips had become so swollen and slick, why this ghoul had his filthy hands all over her.</p><p>She had fixed him with a horrifying look and ran.</p><p>He’d wanted to chase her, but he could not say what for. To apologize? To demand an explanation? To beg her forgiveness? Hancock knew how confusing the bond could make things. He’d felt those surges of sexual appetite that went straight from the mark to his cock. He knew how scary it was to feel like you needed someone this bad. Was he going to help her sort it all out by chasing her down?</p><p>No. The gal needed space, not some horny mutt nipping at her heels.</p><p>But damnit, he wished she hadn’t run. He wished they could just sit down and talk about these things, or have a chance to work through them without some invisible force driving them to rut against each other until it scared them. Hell, normally he’d be into the idea of something loose and wild, but that wasn’t what he wanted here. Nora needed something slow, soft, and tender, not a sweat-stained quickie on moth-eaten couch. He’d had enough of that back in Goodneighbor. But Nora? She made Hancock want something intimate, something real. He’d never made love before, nor was he completely sure what that would mean, but Nora made him want to find out.  </p><p><em>Love</em>. As if that could possibly apply to this whole mess. As if he could even know what that meant. Hancock had known Nora for what, a few weeks now? And in that brief period, he’d been watching her through sunshine-tinted glasses that turned everything into another one of his soulmark-induced fantasies. She drove him crazy, no doubt about that. But when he looked at her, was he seeing the pre-war cherry bomb of his dreams, or was he seeing the real living and breathing Nora?</p><p>Now, as he sat there breathing in the morning light, he began to wonder if Nora was struggling with the same question. If Hancock was honest with himself, he hadn’t exactly been an open book since they met. He’d kicked their relationship off by lying to her face, all while stalking her around town to the point that she thought he was trying to <em>kill </em>her. Then, after all that mess, he’d spent every second with her walking on eggshells, as if she would tuck tail and run if he looked at her funny. Here he was trying to figure out who Nora was, and he hadn’t even given her a chance to get to know him.</p><p>But that was the other problem. He wasn’t sure who he was anymore—John McDonough, or Mayor John Hancock. He thought he’d put John McDonough in the ground ages ago, but that part of his life was sticking to him like a shadow. At the same time, he wasn’t sure he quite fit with the image he’d created for himself after leaving Diamond City. After wall, would Mayor Hancock have left Goodneighbor behind to follow around his soulmate like a lost puppy, knowing full well she may want nothing to do with him? Did he even <em>want </em>to be that guy anymore?</p><p>What a mess.</p><p>A creak from upstairs jolted Hancock out of the cloud of his thoughts. The squeak of a mattress echoed down the hall, followed by a soft sigh, then silence. It was just Nora, shifting in her sleep. If he held his breath, he could hear her breathing, soft inhales and exhales, pumping blood through her body. The body he once thought had been resting six feet under, or had already been digested in a Deathclaw’s belly. Luckily for him, he had been wrong.</p><p>But where did that leave him now? Nora was dead, but somehow she’d managed to wake up from that icebox and find him out there in the goddamn wasteland. Then, we he was on the brink of death in the Pickman Gallery, she’d found him again. When he finally confessed to his lie, she listened, and let him come along with her when he asked. Despite everything that had been working against them, Nora had at the very least seemed willing to <em>try</em>. Maybe it was time for Hancock to return the favor.</p><p>What had Valentine told him back in Goodneighbor? <em>Have a little faith in fate</em>.</p><p>Well, clearly he wasn’t fated to be John McDonough for the rest of his life, or he’d never have been able to go ghoul. He wasn’t fated to be Mayor Hancock either, or he’d never have left Goodneighbor. Maybe fate had nothing to do with soulmarks, and a lot more to do with what you really wanted deep down, what you were willing to fight for in order to bring it into fruition. If so, it was time to start fighting.</p><p>The ground he used to stand on was crumbling beneath him, so maybe it was time to stop looking over the ledge already, and just leap.</p><p>***</p><p>Nora awoke to the hum of a radio playing downstairs, and the smell of what she could have sworn was bacon and eggs wafting from the kitchen below. At first, in that liminal space between sleep and the waking world, she thought she was back in her old life, before the bombs dropped. It wasn’t until Travis “Lonely” Miles’ voice treaded over her dreams that she realized she wasn’t about to be treated to one of Codsworth’s Sunday morning breakfasts.</p><p>So who was cooking?</p><p>After rolling out of bed, buttoning up a clean flannel shirt, and shimmying into her jeans, Nora padded down the stairs to the kitchen. She was greeted with one of the strangest sights she’d ever seen in her abnormally-long life: John Hancock was making breakfast. </p><p>She had to stifle a laugh at first. The ghoul was dressed in his usual black boots and trousers, but foregone his hat and jacket for a yellowing undershirt and Nora’s very own pink, frilled apron that she’d kept hanging in the kitchen (mostly for decoration). He was shaking his hips to the tune of the song on the radio and nursing a bit of yellow goop in a frying pan, all while singing:</p><p><em>Crawl</em> <em> out through the fallout, baby</em> <em>. You know what I mean. Crawl out through the fallout, ‘cause they said this bomb was clean.</em></p><p>Nora wasn’t sure she’d call what he was doing <em>singing</em>—it was more like talking with a vague sense of pitch, but the ghoul certainly didn’t seem to care how he sounded. He was wearing a smile on his face as he turned his attention to the long-dead refrigerator, pushing aside a few cans of water to reach for a bottle of ketchup. He tried to shake its contents onto a nearby plate, but couldn’t seem to push any sauce from the container. After a moment, the ghoul tried again, squeezing harder until the plastic began to pop under his grip. Finally, after a few hard shakes, something shook loose and a splatter of ketchup sprayed from the nozzle, plopping a pile of tomato-red goop onto the plate. He set the bottle down immediately and held his hands out in front of him, fingers dripping with mess as he searched frantically for a towel, all while breakfast sizzled and popped on the stove.</p><p>Nora fought the urge to grin as she called out to him from across the room. “There’s a rag on the handle of the fridge.”</p><p>The ghoul whipped his head to glance at her over his shoulder, eyes lighting up at the sight of her. “Hey! Mornin’ there, sunshine. Didn’t hear you get up. You sleep alright last night?” He grabbed the rag and set to wiping the sticky red from his fingers.</p><p>She swallowed, suddenly recalling the events of the night before. How she’d kissed Hancock, then ran like a schoolgirl caught necking in the hallway. She’d laid in her bed for god knows how long, agonizing over the whole thing until she was too tired to do anything but sleep. Based on his demeanor this morning, Hancock seemed to have already forgotten about it.</p><p>“Slept like a log” she finally managed. “I was exhausted.”</p><p>“Thought you’d be. Hell of a day we had. Not that I minded or anything.” The ghoul threw the rag over his shoulder and returned to poking at the yellow goop on the stove, oblivious to the puzzled look on Nora’s face. He seemed oddly chipper for someone who scared a girl off with a kiss. And what did he mean, “he didn’t mind?” Was he talking about coming back to Diamond City? Or the other thing?</p><p>“You can grab a seat if you’d like, food’s almost ready” he called out, turning off the element and setting another plate down next to the one he’d already laden with ketchup.</p><p>Nora was almost too stunned to respond. She walked hesitantly toward her rickety kitchen table, craning her neck to see what Hancock had concocted. “I didn’t know you cooked” she blurted.</p><p>“Not much usually, but for you, I’ll make an exception.” The ghoul finished his final touches before taking a plate in each hand and turning toward the kitchen table. “Come on, take a seat. Not tryin’ to poison you or anything. I usually prefer a straight up fight anyway.”</p><p>Nora took a seat, not taking her eyes off the ghoul as he slid a plate in front of her. Her heart swelled at the sight of it.</p><p>“My ma’s secret,” Hancock explained. “Those pre-war devilled eggs are pretty dicey, but if you fry them up with some cram and top it all off with tato sauce, they don’t taste half bad.”</p><p>Nora couldn’t help the soft smile that formed on her face. The ghoul had written her a message in big capital letters with ketchup on the rim of her plate. A bright red “SORRY” framed what almost looked like a ham and egg scramble.  </p><p>“Just try one bite. If you don’t like it, I’ll get Takahashi to whip up something better at the noodle stand. But I wanted to try doing something nice for you first.”</p><p>Nora looked up at him, heat rising to her cheeks. “Something nice for me? Why?”</p><p>The ghoul gave a nonchalant shrug, and she could only barely see the nerves he concealed there. “Felt bad for running you off last night. Just wanted to apologize and check to make sure we’re good. If we <em>are </em>good, that is. I mean, I hope we are.” He turned away at those last words, busying himself with pouring coffee from the rust-stained pot he’d been keeping warm on the stove.</p><p>Nora’s eyes fell to her plate. He was putting the ball in her court. If she wanted, she could push her plate away and ask for a bowl of noodles instead, and that would be that. She was sure he’d oblige her with an easy shrug and a smile, as if it didn’t bother him at all. But all this—breakfast in the morning, the sweet apology—it was so adorably <em>him</em>. Like when he’d offered her his jacket in the rain, or plopped his hat on her head in the cemetery. He was scrounging up whatever resources he could to make her feel safe or comfortable. After that whole heated mess on the couch last night, he could have decided to disappear with nothing but a passive aggressive note or slammed door, or he could have ran up those stairs after her and demanded an explanation. Instead, he’d let her get a good night’s sleep, then opened a can of cram and some expired eggs and made her the best breakfast she’d seen in a long time. She couldn’t even remember the last time someone had made her breakfast. Codsworth used to cook, but they had been working out some kinks in his cooking routines when the bombs fell.  </p><p>She was roused from her thoughts by the clink of ceramic as Hancock leaned across the table, setting a hot cup of coffee in front of her. There was a hopeful look in his eyes, like a puppy in a shop window begging to be brought home. It was a sad, pleading look. One that said “please, pick me.”</p><p>He was asking her the question they’d both been so afraid to ask.</p><p>Nora’s eyes flicked down again for just a moment before she pushed her chair from the table and stood up. Hancock followed her with a dazed look as she marched up to him and reached her hands around his waist, arms brushing his sides as her fingertip found his back.</p><p>“This was mine you know” she said, untying the frilly-pink apron from his waist and pulling it affectionately over his head. “I know it survived the war and all, but I don’t think it could handle all that ketchup on your plate.” </p><p>The ghoul beamed at her, eyes crinkling at the edges. “You mean tato sauce?”</p><p> “It’s called ketchup” she retorted.</p><p>“Well for the last 200 years we’ve been calling it tato sauce” he said with that devilish smile she loved so much.</p><p>Feeling suddenly light, Nora reached up and pecked his lips with a kiss, trying not to smirk at the look of disbelief on his face. “Whatever,” she smiled up at him. “Can we eat? I’m starving.</p><p>The ghoul didn’t pull a chair out for her when she sat down, nor did he light a match for her when she reached for a cigarette after cleaning her plate. However, he cleared the table and cleaned the dishes while they chatted about Travis’s new radio personality, and listened attentively as she recounted her favorite quiche recipe, and how she wished the ingredients to make it still existed. He even offered to show her how you could do something similar with a fresh mirelurk egg.</p><p>Nora’s late husband had made her feel precious and safe, like a porcelain doll behind glass. But this strange ghoul with his name on her skin treated her like she’d never been treated before. He’d made her feel respected.</p><p>***</p><p>Valentine looked like he hadn’t moved from his desk since they left his office the night before, and honestly, he probably hadn’t. It wouldn’t be the first time Nora had caught him staying up the whole night pouring over a case file, or staring at the wall blankly, smoking cigarette after cigarette while the gears—both literal and metaphoric—turned away in his head. She knew he didn’t need sleep, but he could at least let himself shut down from time to time, or take a stroll around town to air the dust out of his wiring. She’d told him as much when he greeted them at the door, but he brushed her off as he always did, with a wave of a hand and a firm but well-meaning suggestion that she focus on taking care of herself.</p><p>Nora had changed into a clean vault suit, and she’d found some clean clothes that fit Hancock well enough to trade them in for his all-too-signature frock coat. After all, they’d have trouble hiding a ghoul in Diamond City if he dressed himself like the infamous ghoul mayor of their rival settlement. So, they’d agreed that Hancock would pass himself off as a trader from Vault 88, that way they could blame his need to cover every inch of skin on a vaultie’s fear of radiation.</p><p>Now that they had finally rendezvoused with Valentine, Nora was eager to hear about the case. Once her and Hancock were in the door, she wasted no time, making a beeline for Valentine’s desk where his case notes lay scattered. She liked working cases with Nick. It made her feel in her element, like she was a working a case for a client again.</p><p>“So fill us in Valentine” she said, eyes scanning the mess of scribble before her. “What’s the case and why do you need us for it?”</p><p>Valentine fixed her with golden eyes as he leaned against the desk and lit himself yet another cigarette. “Right to it then? Fine by me. Facts first. I told you last night we were looking for a missing woman, right? Well, her name is Christine Watson. She was reported missing last week by her husband, Shane Watson. Christine doesn’t work, but Shane is a Diamond City guard.” He paused, tapping his cigarette on the rim of an overflowing ashtray. “According to him, Christine left the house early one morning to run errands, but never came home. He’s tried to get the guard involved, but you know how helpful they are when it comes to missing persons cases.”</p><p>Nora nodded, hands planted on the desk. “What kind of errands was she running?”</p><p>Nick shrugged. “No idea. According to her husband, she never said. But like I told you yesterday, they’re soulmates. Saw the mark myself, and since he’s been walking his beat every day since she disappeared, instead of laying on the floor and vomiting into a bucket, she has to be somewhere close. I’m almost certain she’s somewhere within the city limits.”</p><p>Hancock joined them by the desk, placing a chaste hand on Nora’s back as he peered over her shoulder at Valentine’s notes. “You sure about that Nick? What’s to stop someone from stowing her away in a nice empty apartment out in the Fens?”</p><p>Nick’s eyes flickered to the ghoul’s hand for only a moment before he answered. “Well, for starters none of the guards on front gate duty have seen her coming or going. Be pretty hard to get out the front gates with a hostage in hand without being seen.”</p><p>“Any chance she’s a runaway?” Nora asked. “Could be hiding out somewhere close by.”</p><p>Nick shook his head. “I highly doubt it. Gal was born and raised in Diamond City. Wouldn’t know which way to point a gun if she managed to get her hands on one. Even if she did make it out of the city, she’d most likely be dead by now, in which case her husband’s mark would have gone cold.”  </p><p>Nora frowned at that, turning her attention from Nick’s scribbles to regard the synth. “I don’t get it Nick, so why do you need our help?”</p><p>Nick paused at that, smoke seeping from the cracks in his skin. “Well, this one has me stumped at the moment. Figured it might have something to do with my lack of experience when it comes to soulmates. Thought it might help to bring in someone with first-hand experience.”</p><p>Nora smiled. “Always happy to help, Nick.”</p><p>“Look, I don’t want to keep you too long. I know you’ve got bigger fish to fry out there. At the very least, I wanted you to come with me to talk to the husband again. I wanted to get his story one more time, get your read on the situation.”</p><p>Nora stood up, trying not to miss the warmth of Hancock’s touch as it slid away from her back. “Alright, let’s go pay him a visit then. Where does he live?”</p><p> Nick stubbed out his cigarette and adjusted the lapels of his coat with a sharp snap. “Other side of town, by the stairs to the upper stands. I’ll walk you over there.”</p><p>***</p><p>The Watson residence was nestled in a row of modest shacks pushed up against the lower stands. It was in better repair than most homes in Diamond City, with a freshly painted door and a tin-can windchime hanging from the rusted metal eaves. If the wasteland had anything that resembled a pre-war Sanctuary Hills, it would probably look something like this. Quiet, quaint, and almost cozy.</p><p>Nick spared a glance over his shoulder at Nora and Hancock before stepping up to the door and rapping on it three times. There was a shuffle of movement inside followed by the click of a lock, and the door swung open.</p><p>Shane Watson was a tall, lean man. Even without his uniform, Nora could tell he worked for Diamond City security. He had the kind of muscular build only a guard could have in a place like Diamond City. His sandy face bore the kind of tan lines one would get from wearing sunglasses all day, and his hair lay flat and unkempt against his head, as if he usually wore a helmet. When he opened the door, he greeted them with a weak smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.</p><p>“Hey Valentine, thanks for stopping by. Any luck finding Christine?”</p><p>Nick shook his head. “None yet, but I’m still looking. How are you feeling?”</p><p>The man shrugged. “Same as before. No withdrawal symptoms, and the mark is still warm. It’s like she never left.”</p><p>Nick nodded before continuing. “Yeah. Well, I thought it was time to call up my colleagues here for a little extra help. Figured if we put our heads together, we might have a better time finding out what happened to your wife.”</p><p>The man turned to Nora and Hancock, taking a moment to size them up with a scrutinizing glance. He jutted his chin toward Hancock. “Never seen you before. Not from around here?”</p><p>Hancock cleared his throat. Nora tried not to wince at the unmistakable rasp in his voice. “Nope. Born and raised in Vault 88. First time in Diamond City.”</p><p>When Shane narrowed his eyes, Nora chimed in to add “I’m showing him the ropes as a favor. You know, one vault dweller to—”</p><p>“So you’re from a vault, huh?” Shane continued, as if Nora hadn’t even spoke. “Got many missing persons cases there?”</p><p>Hancock shrugged. “Kids get cocky enough to leave every now and then. Someone’s got to drag them back before they get themselves killed.”</p><p>Shane seemed to find that answer acceptable. He nodded thoughtfully for a moment before turning back to Nick. “So, what can I do for you Mr. Valentine?”</p><p>“I was hoping to ask you a few questions, partly to fill my friends in, if you don’t mind.”</p><p>“Sure, no problem come on in. I’ll grab a few beers.”</p><p>Nick and Hancock shuffled inside, with Nora taking the lead. As she stepped through the door, Shane Watson guided her in with a large hand at the small of her back. The touch sent a cold shiver down her spine. She was used to unwelcome touching from men, both pre- and post-war, but something about the way he led her through the door—firm, almost pushing—made her stomach twist.</p><p>She didn’t much care for Shane Watson.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you as always for reading! </p><p>I am SO sorry that it has been so long since I last updated. Between school, COVID, and my general brain chemistry, my mental health has been a mess these past few weeks. Luckily, coming back to writing has been very therapeutic, and I'm beginning to feel much more like myself again. This chapter especially gave me lots of warm fuzzy feelings, so I hope you enjoyed reading the fluff as much as I enjoyed writing it. </p><p>Don't forget to leave kudos and comments! Hearing from you always makes my day!</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Too Easy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Watson residence looked every bit like the type of home you’d find on the edge of the stands. It had none of the pomp or flash of the loft homes above them (to think the Latimers had hauled an entire rowboat into the upper stands just so their shitstain of a son could lay in it and get high between gigs that mostly involved selling chems to kids) but it seemed to have every comfort a resident of the Great Green Jewel could ask for. When she stepped over the threshold, she heard Scraps of soft patterned cloth covered the plywood flooring  beneath their feet, a full-sized bed was tucked in the corner with well-worn quilt thrown over it, and when Shane Watson opened the fridge to grab a couple of beers, Nora noticed it had actually been hooked up to the city grid, and was well-stocked with clean water, raw meat, and ice-cold nuka cola. On top of that, the place was absolutely spotless. Empty bottles and cans were stacked neatly in a wire shopping basket by the front door, and the air smelled faintly of abraxo. She would never have pegged this as the home to a Diamond City guard. But then, she spied an umpire uniform on a dresser against the back wall, neatly folded with the helmet set atop like a trophy; a baseball bat was displayed on the wall overhead.</p><p>Nora chanced a sidelong glance at Hancock, but the ghoul-in-disguise gave nothing away through his gas mask.</p><p>Shane tried to offer Nick and Hancock a beer, but both turned him down. Hancock mumbled something about not trusting anything this side of the vault. Nick just gave Shane a flat, incredulous look.</p><p>As Shane led them to a living area fitted with a few squashy couches, Nora stopped to glance up at the bat on the wall. It looked practically new—spotless even. As if its owner never had the chance to actually use it. Shane must not see a lot of action on his beat.</p><p>Another hand slithered onto her back, and her shoulders tensed, as if someone had poured ice-cold water down her back. “Pretty nice, huh?” Shane said, towering over her with a toothy smile on his face. “A 2040 World Series edition. Ain’t no other like her in the whole damn guard.”</p><p>Nora shrugged off his touch as she turned to face him, arms crossing protectively over her chest. She found herself falling into the old habits—smile bashfully, change the subject, act like everything is fine. “Bet it cracks like a whip when it connects” she replied in an attempt at nonchalance. The skin on her palm began to tingle as something pressed through the mark from Hancock’s end. He’d felt something, apparently. She glanced over her shoulder to catch him staring, goggles fixed in a glassy stare directed at the oblivious man beside her. Judging by Shane’s easy chuckle, he hadn’t noticed.</p><p>“Maybe if you’re playing ball, but a real swatter ain’t meant for games sweetheart.”</p><p>Nora bristled at that, but her voice remained cool—playful even. “Really? I thought baseball was a blood sport.”</p><p>Shane shrugged at that. “Ain’t the kind of ball I played as a kid.” He furrowed his brow in thought, one hand stroking the stubble on his chin. Then, he smiled, one hand slapping his thigh in amusement. “Oh, I see, you must’ve been talkin’ to Moe. He’s a nice guy, but sometimes I think he likes to tease the newcomers a bit, especially the vaulties.” An annoyingly-sweet smile spread on his face. “Don’t let guys like Moe pull ya’ leg sweetheart. After all, you’re not in the vault anymore.”  </p><p>Nora felt her jaw click. Ignoring the sudden rush of heat to her cheeks, she opened her mouth to respond, but snapped it shut at the feel of a warm staying hand on her shoulder—Hancock. The light reflecting on his goggles made his expression impossible tor read, but the slight zing of heat on her palm suggested that he was less than pleased.</p><p>The ghoul was quick to change the subject, although the steadiness in his voice had a forced edge to it. “Hey, I could talk about the Wealth’s favorite sport all day, but I’d rather get down to this business about your wife, if that’s alright with you” the ghoul pressed, voice low and rough.</p><p>Shane held out his hands in a sign of openness. “Sure, what can I do to help?”</p><p> “Could start by tellin’ us a bit about your old lady. What’s she do?” Hancock was fighting to hide the ghoulish growl of his voice. Nora hoped that Shane hadn’t seen enough ghouls to recognize the dead giveaway of his vocal fry.</p><p>Shane glanced at the hand still resting on Nora’s shoulder, but seemed generally unaffected by Hancock’s advance, and oblivious to the harsh grate of his voice. As far as Nora could tell, the man wouldn’t know a ghoul if it ripped his arm off (and boy did something about this guy make her wish that Hancock would).</p><p>Shane considered them for a moment. Then, he placed his hands on his hips and pulled his lips into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Chrissy doesn’t work” he said. “Doesn’t need to really. I make a pretty good salary with DCS.”</p><p>“So what does she do to keep busy?” Nora asked.</p><p>Shane shrugged. “What any gal does ‘round these parts, really. Cooks, cleans, listens to the radio.”</p><p>Nora crossed her arms over her chest. “I mean where does she like to go around town? The Dugout? Taphouse? She can’t spend all her time here.” She made a broad gesture at the dimly-lit shack where they stood.  </p><p>Shane leaned against the dresser, licking his thumb to wipe at a spot on his guard helmet. “Nah, not Chrissy. She’s a real shy girl. Don’t really like to go nowhere.”</p><p>Nora raised a brow at that. “She never leaves the house? Does she at least have friends who visit? Relatives maybe?”</p><p>Shane shook his head, a sad smile painting his face. “Chrissy don’t really fit in with folks ‘round here. You know how it is. We ain’t no scavvers, but we might as well be so far as folk in the upper stands are concerned.”</p><p>Nora turned to Nick, who’d been hanging back and listening. He shrugged at her questioning glance. “I’m no social butterfly myself, but that checks out. Hardly ever saw the gal.”</p><p>“But she grew up here, didn’t she? She has to have some friends.”</p><p>The detective considered her for a moment before responding. “Normally, you’d be right, but social calls aren’t as important as they used to be. Some folk are just too worried about surviving to care much about company.”  </p><p>That felt like a hollow answer, but it appeared that Nick had nothing more to say on the matter, so Nora turned back to Shane. The man was still leaning on the dresser, nodding slowly at Nick’s remark.</p><p>Nora pressed on with her questions. “Well, you said she was out running errands the day she went missing.”</p><p>Shane’s glance shot back to Nora. “Yep!” he shot back. “Only time she leaves the house.”</p><p>Nora took a deep breath. That was something, at least. “Where does she usually go for these errands?”</p><p>Shane put his hands in his pockets, pushing himself off the dresser to rock on his heels as he thought. “Well, she buys meat from Choice Chops and just ‘bout everything else from Myrna.” He paused, then snapped his fingers as if something had just occurred to him. “Oh, except water. He buys that from Sheng.  But I talked to all the shop owners. No one saw her that day.”</p><p>Nick’s voice came from behind her: “That checks out too. I checked with all the shopkeepers and guards, and none of them saw her that day. Neighbors didn’t see her either. No sign of struggle in or around the house. It’s like she just got up that morning and vanished.”</p><p>Nora turned to Nick. “No sign of struggle? So you’ve looked around the house already?”</p><p>Shane answered in his stead: “Valentine searched this place top to bottom. You’re welcome to look around again, but I haven’t been able to find anything. Only stuff of hers that’s missing are the clothes she was wearing when I left for work that morning.”</p><p>Nora fixed Shane with a hard look. “Mind if me and my friend take a look around anyways? Another pair of eyes might help.”</p><p>“Sure!” he responded, all-too accommodating. “If you think it will help.”</p><p>***</p><p>Since the Watson home was so small, it only took them an hour to search every nook and cranny while they continued to ask Shane questions about Christine. By time they’d finished opening every drawer and moving aside every bit of furniture in search of <em>some </em>clue, Shane had told them quite a bit about his soulmate. Apparently they were both born and raised in Diamond City, but Shane being several years older than Christine, they didn’t talk much until after their marks had appeared. Shane was eager to wax nostalgic about his wife while the others set to work searching the house.</p><p>“Chrissy was always such a sweet girl, never caused no trouble or nothin’” he reminisced, hands stuffed in his pants pockets as he gazed off into the distance. “Always kept to herself. Probably didn’t even know my name until after her parents died.” A solemn look came over his face. “Bad case of rad poisoning.” Then, just as quick as it came, his frown broke way for a toothy smile. “It was a few days after the funeral, actually. There I was, walking my beat, and I see Chrissy carrying these baskets of supplies back to her parents’ house. Gal looked exhausted, so I says to her ‘let me get that for you.’ She was shy at first, but it was really muddy that day and I didn’t want her to slip and fall, so I insisted. So she hands me a basket, and while I’m reaching to grab it my hand brushes her and it just happened. It was like the sun breaking through the clouds after a radstorm. Boom!” He grinned at Nora, who was busy sifting through the contents of a suitcase that had been pushed under the bed. She idly picked a long strand of blonde hair off a powder-blue dress that had been neatly folded inside. One of Christine’s, no doubt.  </p><p>“That’s quite the story” Hancock rasped from across the room, where he lay on the floor, peering underneath a faded couch. “So how long you two been together?”</p><p>“It’ll be two years in June” Shane replied.</p><p>Nora looked up at that. “Only two years?”</p><p>Shane shrugged. “Yeah, why?”</p><p>She paused, studying the blank look on his face, before turning back to close the suitcase and slide it back under the bed. “Just a surprise is all. The way you talk, sounds like you’ve been together a long time.”</p><p>“It feels like it sometimes, but I guess that’s just how it is with soulmates.” He nodded at her hand, the one that bore the mark. “If you ever meet yours, you’ll understand. It changes you. Makes you want to settle down and start a new life together. That’s just what Chrissy and I were doing, until she disappeared.” He lowered his gaze for a moment, his expression solemn. “I guess that’s why I called Nick, ‘cause I knew. Soulmates don’t just up and leave each other. The bond’s too strong. From the second it set in, it was like magic. We knew everything the other was thinking and, well, we just had to be together as much as possible. Couldn’t stand to be away from each other. Only time we weren’t connected at the hip was when I left for work. I have no doubt, someone would’ve had to drag Chrissy out of here by force, or she’d never leave.” </p><p>There was a strange silence, broken by Hancock, his voice strained as he fought to smooth out his vocal fry: “Any idea who might’ve taken her? She have enemies?” he asked. His eyes were glued to the floor beneath him. He seemed to be avoiding Shane’s gaze, trying not to draw too much attention to himself.</p><p>“You know, I’ve thought about it,” Shane paused, then continued in a low, hushed voice: “All this stuff about the Institute, what Piper’s been writing in the paper, makes you wonder don’t it? People disappearing without a trace…I can’t help but wonder…” he trailed off, regarding Hancock with an expectant look.</p><p>Nora was still sitting on the ground by the bed, holding very still as she processed Shane’s words. She knew better than anyone that the bogeyman of the Commonwealth was a very real threat, and that they had the technology to make people disappear in an instant, but the rest of Shane’s story—what he said about soulmates and bonds, it just wasn’t right. None of it was. She and Hancock had bonded without her even knowing who he was. There was no instant recognition, no light breaking through the clouds. Hell, she was still trying to figure out how she even felt about the man.  Maybe the bond affected people in different ways, but it couldn’t be that <em>that </em>different, could it?</p><p>She chanced a glance at Nick, who was leaning against a wall on the opposite end of the room, arms crossed over his chest. Beneath the brim of his hat, the yellow glow of his eyes watched her with great interest.</p><p>“Oh,” she thought to herself as she met his gaze. So <em>t</em><em>hat’s</em> why Nick brought her on.</p><p>“Well, hopefully that ain’t the case,” Hancock said in response to Shane. “’Sides, not much we can do if the Institute is involved.” His eyes were still glued to the floor.</p><p>The room fell silent after that. Nora replaced the contents of the suitcase she’d been searching, securing the latches and pushing it under the bed where she found it. As she stood up to dust off her knees, she noticed another lock of blonde hair snagged on edge of a pillow, stark against the crisp white of the freshly-cleaned pillowcase. Suddenly, the smell of abraxo had her feeling nauseous.</p><p>***</p><p>The sun was high in the sky when Shane saw them out. He thanked the three of them for coming, and was adamant that they stop by anytime they needed his help. He’d even scribbled down his work schedule on a napkin and handed it to Hancock, who thrust it into his pocket with nothing more than a curt nod. After he shut the front door behind them, Nick insisted on waiting until they were back at the agency office before talking, not wishing to be overhead on the now-bustling streets. The city seemed to have woken from its slumber while they had been talking to Shane. The steady thump of Polly’s knife on the butcher block mingled with the hum of street chatter and the distant whir of Takahashi’s motor keeping up with business at the noodle stand.</p><p>The three of them remained silent on their walk to the agency. Hancock seemed especially on edge, his shoulders tense and arms stiff as they made their way through the crowd. Whether his nerves were the result of the general wariness that came with being a ghoul in Diamond City, or the conversation they’d had with Shane, Nora couldn’t tell. Nick, as always, gave nothing away in his steady gait and friendly nods to familiar passersby.</p><p>When they arrived at the office, the door was already unlocked and Ellie greeted them from behind a stack of papers piled near an open filing cabinet drawer. Shutting the door behind them sealed away the bustle of the city, leaving only the hum of the exposed light bulbs and the shuffle of manila folders. Nick took a brief moment to light himself a cigarette before turning to Hancock and Nora with a keen look in his eye.</p><p>“So, what do you think?”</p><p>Nora crossed her arms. “I don’t believe his story” she said simply.</p><p>Nick nodded in agreement. “Neither do I, but I’m curious to know why you think so.”</p><p>Nora paused, chewing her lip as she tried to collect her thoughts. She hear a small click behind her as Hancock turned the lock on the front door, followed by the rustle of cloth as he pulled the hooded mask from his face and took in a deep breath of fresh air. Even in the cold December weather, it couldn’t be comfortable for him to wear that thing all day.</p><p>“I don’t know Nick,” Nora sighed. “The guy just gives me the creeps. His Institute story seems too damn easy, and all those things he said about the mark weren’t lining up with what I’ve experienced. I couldn’t buy it.”</p><p>Hancock appeared at her side with the scrape of a chair, which he turned around and straddled, propping his elbows on the back as he lit his own cigarette. “You and me both sunshine,” he mumbled through his cigarette. “It was a nice little story, what he told us, but it sure as hell wasn’t the truth.”</p><p>Nick lay his cigarette over a nearby ashtray, then leaned forward, fingertips pressed together. “Enlighten me.”</p><p>Nora and Hancock glanced at each other, both tentative in their response.</p><p>“Well, it’s just…” Nora began.</p><p>“You know…” Hancock followed.</p><p>“I didn’t even know we bonded at first—”</p><p>“And when you found out we still—”</p><p>“It wasn’t this automatic thing” Nora gestured vaguely.</p><p>“Guy made it sound…” Hancock trailed off, searching for the right word.</p><p>“Too easy?” Nora suggested.</p><p>“Yeah” he pointed with his cigarette. “The mark ain’t this big romantic thing, it’s more…”</p><p>“Physical” Nora finished for him.</p><p>“Yeah, like sometimes the mark says one thing, but you don’t know if its you or the mark.”</p><p>“And I left Goodneighbor plenty of times. I only got sick when I came all the way to Diamond City.”</p><p>Hancock turned to her. “Shit, you were all the way in Diamond City? No wonder I was emptying my insides all damn day.”</p><p>“The <em>point</em>” Nora pressed, “is that he made the mark sound too…idyllic, I guess. It’s not like you flip a switch and you’re suddenly in love with someone you barely know.” Her gaze fell to the floor. “I guess I didn’t realize it before, but after hearing Shane talk about the whole thing, it made me realize that there’s mark feelings, and then there’s whatever you’d feel whether the mark was there or not.” She turned to regard Hancock, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. He seemed suddenly very focused on his cigarette.</p><p>Nick cleared his throat. “So what I’m hearing is that having a bond doesn’t necessarily mean you care about the person on the other end?”</p><p>Nora nodded. “Exactly.”</p><p>Nick’s mouth formed into a tight line, his cigarette already forgotten in the ashtray. “What else did you notice?”</p><p>Nora picked at a wisp of hair by her temple, thinking. “The place was clean. Weirdly clean.”</p><p>“Yeah, I noticed that too.” Hancock chimed in, his tone sullen. “Whole place reeked of abraxo.”</p><p>“Like maybe he’d made a bit of a mess there recently?” Nick asked.</p><p>Nora shrugged. “That’s still not much to go on. Maybe the guy’s just clean. Besides, the place wasn’t <em>spotless</em>. He had all those empties by the door. I even saw some of Christine’s hair still on the pillow. How do we know she didn’t just clean up before leaving on her own?”</p><p>Hancock blew smoke out the corner of his mouth. “Kinda weird she didn’t take anything with her though. Where the hell do ya think she’d be going, what, with nothing but the clothes on her back?”</p><p>“Maybe she was mentally ill? Schizophrenic?” Nora suggested.</p><p>“Wait,” Ellie exclaimed from across the room, leaning back from her work among the filing cabinets. “You said you saw hair in the house?”</p><p>Nora turned to look at Ellie. “Yeah, long blonde hair. Why?”</p><p>Nick froze, then spun around with a jolt, reaching behind him for a case file laying on the other desk. “Ellie, you’re as sharp as you look,” he exclaimed, dropping the file on the table in front of them. He flipped through its contents until he landed on a black and white photograph of a group of students standing outside the Diamond City school building—what looked like a graduation photo. “<em>That </em>is Christine Watson,” he said, one metal finger pointing to a girl in the periphery  of the image. She was ebony-skinned, with large dark eyes and hair sheared close to her head in tight black coils. Nora let out a sharp exhale.</p><p>“It wasn’t Christine’s” she breathed.</p><p>“Which means Mr. Watson has another woman spending time in his bed, not long after his soulmate disappeared” Ellie added, sitting back on her heels with a shocked look on her face.</p><p>Nora met the yellow glow of the synth detective’s gaze. “Nick, what if he was seeing someone else <em>before </em>Christine went missing.”</p><p>She caught a glint of understanding in the synth’s eye: “Which could mean a possible motive for Mr. Watson to make his soulmate disappear—”</p><p>“—Which would explain why his house is so clean, and why he’s seems so nonchalant about the fact that his <em>soulmate </em>just up and left. He’s not worried Nick, he’s <em>relieved</em>.”</p><p>Nick held up a hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’re going to need more evidence before we start throwing accusations. Like where he might hide a body, or why his mark is still warm.”</p><p>“I think I may have something on both those fronts” Hancock interjected. The ghoul sucked hard on his cigarette, blowing the smoke out his nose like an angry dragon. Nora, Nick, and Ellie’s eyes were glued to him.</p><p>“One,” he rasped as he held a finger in the air, “the only person who feels a cold mark is whoever has the damn mark. Just because it feels warm to us doesn’t mean it feels warm to him.”</p><p>Nick nodded and Nora swallowed hard. Of course he would know from experience.</p><p>“And two,” he continued, throwing up a second finger, “I think we might get an idea of where Christine is after we take a little looksie under the foundation of the Watson residence.”</p><p>Nora raised an eyebrow at that. “What makes you so sure?”</p><p>Hancock gave her a sidelong glance. “There something under the floorboards there. Not a body, it was too small. More like a stash. Either it belongs to Christine and he doesn’t know about it, or its Shane’s, and he doesn’t <em>want </em>us to know about it.”</p><p>Nora narrowed her eyes at Hancock. “Wait, why didn’t you mention this earlier?”</p><p>The ghoul turned his head toward her and smiled weakly. “What can I say, sunshine. I have a great sense of dramatic timing.”</p><p>Nick, eyes still fixed on the case file, spoke up: “So we need a look under the foundation, but how do we get under there without Mr. Watson noticing.”</p><p>Hancock reached into his pocket, pulling out the napkin with Shane’s work schedule and waving it triumphantly between them. “I think I got that covered.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you everyone so much for reading! As always, please leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed it, or want to leave an feedback. I always love hearing from you!</p><p>I'm done with my semester now, so I'm hoping to churn out as much of this story as I can over the winter break. I'm a graduate student, so I still have plenty of work to be doing over the break, but my schedule should allow for some more writing time. </p><p>I love writing this story, and it makes me so happy to see that people are interested in reading it, so a huge thank you to everyone who has been reading. You guys are AMAZING. </p><p>As always, you can find me on tumblr at https://mel--on--earth.tumblr.com</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. By All Means</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apologies for being gone for so long! I hope that I can earn your forgiveness by posting two new chapters at once. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It appeared that Shane had drawn the short straw when it came to patrol duty, as he was not due to walk his beat until midnight that night. Nora and Hancock had expected to spend the remainder of the afternoon preparing, but Nick insisted that the two take some time off. “Better to let these things simmer” he had said, “or else the pot might boil over.” So, they left Nick’s office together and, after a bit of shy fumbling with words, agreed to take some time to prepare for the next impossible task on their list: The Glowing Sea.</p><p>It was at Hancock’s insistence, really, that Nora try to find a hazmat suit. Despite the fact that she had enough rad-x and radaway to open her own clinic, the ghoul didn’t want to take any chances.</p><p>“While I admire your optimism, I don’t think you realize what a big baddie the Glowing Sea really is,” he said as they made their way from the agency to Fallon’s basement.</p><p>“Have you been before?” she asked.</p><p>“Nah, but I’ve heard plenty of crazy stories. None seem to involve someone going in and coming back alive. I mean, its not even like they turn into ghouls. They just <em>don’t come back</em>.”</p><p>Nora sighed at that as she reached up to smooth down her fly-aways. The concern in his voice was sweet, touching even, but about 200 years too late to turn her away. “It doesn’t matter. One way or another, I have to go. I need to find Shaun, and Virgil is the only thing standing between me and a dead end in this search.”</p><p>Hancock regarded her through the dusty goggles of his gas mask. “So what happens if we drag our asses all that way and he’s not there, or hell, what if we find nothin’ but a dead body lying in all that radioactive mess?”</p><p>The look she gave him was strained. “John, I…I have to take that chance. I can’t go on knowing my son is out there somewhere without his mom looking for him. No child should be abandoned like that.”  </p><p>Hancock stopped. They were outside Fallon’s basement now, but neither moved to go down the stairs to the store itself. The ghoul just gazed at her through the glassy lens of his mask.</p><p>Nora’s brow furrowed softly, concerned. “What’s wrong?” she asked.</p><p>A silence fell between them, broken by his voice, soft and tender. “You’re really something else, you know that?”</p><p>Nora smiled cautiously, unsure how to respond. “What do you mean?”</p><p>Hancock shrugged. “Oh I dunno. You were only frozen for 200 years, and somehow you still have enough fire left over to try and take the whole damn Commonwealth by storm looking for your kid.” He shifted his weight to the other foot and cocked his head to the side. “And on top of all that, you’re the first person whose had the guts to call me by my first name in years.”</p><p>Nora crossed her arms. “That’s not true. Plenty of people call you John.”</p><p>“Like who?”</p><p>She shrugged. “Daisy, for one. Nick does it too.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, don’t sound the same as it does coming from you.”</p><p>Nora arched a brow. “Should I not?”</p><p>The question seemed to surprise him. “No no, by all means!” His nonchalance felt forced, but Nora decided not to press the issue as Hancock stuffed his hands into his pockets and spun lazily on his heel toward the door to Fallon’s Basement.</p><p>***</p><p>Hancock reached out to touch the fabric between a timid thumb and forefinger, the soft material sliding against his rough skin like silk on worn cement. He dropped it, afraid it would fray against the scarred terrain of his hands. He watched as it fell away, delicate and surreal, like a cloud of baby-blue powder being dusted off a shelf.</p><p>“Looking for a new uniform?”</p><p>He turned with a jolt to find Nora regarding him with one hand on her hip, an amused smile playing at her lips.</p><p>“What, this? Nah, not really my color” he managed in response. “I was just wondering if you pre-war gals really wore this kinda thing all the time.” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “You know, back then.”  </p><p>Nora craned her head to look at the dress he was referring to. It was your average Sunday dress, powder blue with a modest floral pattern and loose sleeves. She shrugged. “I guess it depends on the gal, but yeah, you could.”</p><p>“Did <em>you </em>wear this kind of thing?”</p><p>“Me?” She gave the dress another glance. “I might have owned something like it, sure. Something I might wear cleaning house or cooking dinner for Nate whenever he was home.”</p><p>Hancock jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, his voice rising in disbelief. “You wore that just to cook and clean?”</p><p>She laughed at that. “I know, right? Felt just as silly then as it does now, but it made my husband happy.” She tilted her head, eyes seeming to fall into a memory.</p><p>“Guess I was born in the wrong century” he mused, goggled gaze turning back to the dress. Nora gave him a playful shove before returning to her own browsing.</p><p>After what felt like an eternity (although Hancock really had no problem waiting around while Nora did her thing) Nora announced she was good to go with a hazmat suit draped over her arm and a plastic bag stuffed with a few other items swinging from her elbow. Hancock nodded to the bag. “What are those for?” Nora didn’t look up from the bottle caps she’d been counting out for Becky, who was counting shrewdly along as each cap hit the counter. “Just a few extra things,” Nora replied, “in case the suit needs to be mended. I don’t want to wait until I’m already knee-deep in radioactive muck to find out the thing has a leak. I’ll give it a good look over when we get back home and patch up any holes I find.” She pressed the last cap to the counter with a punctuated click, only turning to leave after receiving Becky’s nod of approval.</p><p>Before they headed back to Homeplate, Nora grabbed Hancock’s attention. “Hey, mind if we make one more stop? I just thought of something.”</p><p>Hancock shrugged. “Sure, ain’t got nothing but time.”</p><p>Nora smiled, offering him a quick wink before leading him over to Moe Cronin’s shack. He figured that Nora needed to restock on whatever supplies she needed to keep her swatter in fighting shape (probably a lot of nails and whatever she used to keep all that blood from staining the wood). She must come here often, because Moe immediately recognized her.</p><p>“Nora! Finally come to have a look at what I got in aluminum?”</p><p>Nora smiled. “Thanks, but I’m not in the market for a new one just yet. I just need more of that tape you gave me for the handle. You’re the only person I know who carries anything like it.”</p><p>Moe clicked his tongue and pointed a finger at her. “Told ya that stuff was better than duct tape. Ya can’t beat that kinda grip.”</p><p>“Sure can’t” she agreed. Hancock could practically see Nora count to ten in her head while Moe dug through a bin of odds and ends. Then, as if on cue, she spoke up again. “You know I was just talking to one of the guards earlier today. Said he has a 2040 World Series edition back at home. Did you sell it to him?”</p><p>He replied without turning away from his digging: “You must’ve been talking to Shane Watson. Yeah, he bought it from me a couple years back. Said he wanted something nicer to use for work.”</p><p>Nora’s response was a little too cool, “Can’t imagine he’d want to use something that nice for walking the beat. He ever bring it in to get cleaned?”</p><p>“Nah, I think he just uses abraxo like the rest of the guards. Never mind that it eats away the finish.” He paused as he continued to dig. “You hear ‘bout what happened to his soulmate?”</p><p>Nora nodded. “Yeah, I hope they find her.”</p><p>“Me too,” he responded. “You know, I used to have a soulmate.”</p><p>“You don’t say?”</p><p>“Yeah, lost her a couple years back. Boy do I miss her. Met her right here in Diamond City! She was shopping with her ma’ in the market one day, and I saw her carrying these baskets back home, so I offered to carry a few for her. She seemed shy at first, but I insisted. So she hands a basket to me, and my hand brushed hers and it just happened, ya’ know?. Like the sun breaking through the clouds after a radstorm. Boom!”</p><p>Something dropped in Hancock’s stomach, and when he turned his head to look, he saw that Nora’s face had gone suddenly pale. “That’s quite the story,” she croaked.</p><p>Moe turned around, a roll of white tape in his hand. “Yeah, it was something else.” He caught the glazed look in Nora’s eyes and frowned. “Sorry, have I told you that one before?”</p><p>Nora seemed to snap out of it as she reached for her coin purse. “You might have,” she replied. “It certainly sounds familiar.”</p><p>She counted her caps out in silence, offering Moe a half-hearted wave before hurrying away from the shack. Hancock followed behind her without a word.</p><p>Tonight couldn’t come soon enough.</p><p>***</p><p>When they arrived at Homeplate, they were surprised to find that the door was already unlocked.</p><p>Nora cast a sidelong glance at Hancock before reaching for the knife sheathed at her belt. With a gentle nudge of her foot, she slowly eased the door open. Her first step through the doorframe was timid, her shoulders tense and breath held tight in her chest. Then, just as she made it halfway over the threshold, she froze.</p><p>Hancock’s heart skipped a beat, and a hand instinctively shot out to grab her by the waist, ready to pull her back at the first sign of trouble. His heart was thumping in his chest as they both stood stock still, but read to pounce. He felt the taut muscles of her core go soft. A flutter of hope sprung in his chest for a moment, and he thought it might have been his touch that eased her. But then, he saw her shoulders relax and a smile spready across her face. The knife was returned to her belt and the front door flung wide open.</p><p>“Jesus Piper, you scared the shit out of me” Nora called out as she stepped inside, head turning ever so slightly as Hancock’s hand fell away from her hip.</p><p>“Getting kinda jumpy there, aren’t ya’ Blue?” the reporter’s voice floated from somewhere inside.</p><p>Hancock felt himself let out a gust of air  before heading on in and kicking the door shut behind him. “Well you did leave the damn door unlocked” he growled as he pulled the gas mask over his head, wiping the condensation from his brow with a dirty sleeve.</p><p>Piper was seated sideways in one of the chairs by the kitchen table, reclined so her back rested against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. A flash of interest lit her eyes at the sight of Hancock. “Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in” she crooned. “My <em>second</em> least favorite mayor in the Commonwealth.”</p><p>Hancock glowered at her from across the room as he shrugged off his jacket. “Well well yourself, little miss reporter.”</p><p>“Funny seeing you in this part of town.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively. “Come here often?”</p><p>He breathed a soft laugh at that. “Nice try Piper, but I’m not really doing exclusives anymore, if ya’ catch my drift.” He fought to avoid Nora’s gaze, instead relishing in the heat rising to Piper’s face.</p><p>“Gross,” the reporter scowled before turning to Nora. “You got me all bummed out, Blue. You’re back in Diamond City again for the first time in weeks and <em>this </em>is the company you keep?” Her tone was playful as she gestured lazily to the ghoul.</p><p>“Hancock’s not so bad” Nora shrugged, a barely-contained smile pressing at her lips. “Certainly has his uses.”</p><p>Hancock saw the opportunity and seized it. He reached past Nora for a pack of cigarettes, caging her from the side as he pressed his lips to her ear, his voice a low growl. “Do I now? What kind of uses are those?”</p><p>He delighted at the flush of pink that rose to Nora’s cheeks as she gently pushed him away. “Oh stop, you know what I meant” she admonished him, albeit weakly. The ghoul shot her a dark-eyed smirk as he fit a cigarette between his teeth.</p><p>Piper watched from across the room, a smile playing at her lips. “So the two of you finally found each other, huh?”</p><p>Both Hancock and Nora looked up at that, surprised. Piper frowned in response. “What? I’m a reporter aren’t I? Of course I knew! Poor Blue nearly had a heart attack five minutes after we met when she ran into ‘Mayor McDonough’” she put air quotes around the name.</p><p>Hancock barked out a laugh at that. “You thought the mark was for my <em>brother</em>?”</p><p>Nora grimaced. “Lucky for me his first name came out not long after. Believe me, relief doesn’t begin to describe it.”</p><p>“Well lucky me” he grinned through a puff of smoke. “Any longer and I’d have lost you to the competition.” Nora swatted at him as his shoulders shook with silent laughter.</p><p>“Well if I knew it was going to be like this I would have left you to it” Piper droned.</p><p>Nora spun around. “No please, stay!” she insisted. “I haven’t seen you in ages. Would you like something to eat or drink? I have—”</p><p>“Relax,” Piper interrupted, holding up a bottle of Nuka Cola. “I already helped myself. Just grab a chair, will ya? I won’t take too much of your time. Promised Nat I’d be home in time for dinner.”</p><p>Catching the warm smile on Nora’s face, Hancock read the room and planned a strategic retreat. “You two go ahead and catch up” he said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m gonna hit the shower.”</p><p>***</p><p>Piper watched with a smug look as Nora’s gaze followed Hancock out of the room. The poor gal didn’t seem to even notice she was being watched until he had disappeared down the hallway. It wasn’t until his footsteps had faded that Nora finally turned back to catch Piper’s knowing look. The vaultie furrowed her brow. “What?” she asked defensively.</p><p>Piper leaned forward, keeping her voice low so the ghoul couldn’t overhear her. “Never pegged you as the bad boy type. Thought if the two of your ever crossed paths he’d have you running for the hills.” The reporter smirked, swirling her soda playfully. “Guess my hunch was wrong.”</p><p>Nora made a face at her. “It’s not like that,” she sighed. “It’s complicated.”</p><p>Piper furrowed her brow. “Why, because he’s a ghoul?” Her tone was non-judgmental, but Nora still winced at the implications. She only shook her head in response, remaining silent as she searched for the right words.</p><p>The silence must have lasted for too long, because something more akin to concern shot through Piper’s eyes. “He’s not being <em>pushy</em> with you, is he?”</p><p>Nora shook her head vigorously and offered a reassuring smile. “No, nothing like that. He’s been nothing but a gentleman.”</p><p>Piper pressed he mouth into a flat line. “We’re still talking about Hancock right?”</p><p>“Who else would we be talking about?”</p><p>Piper pulled back at that. “Damn, if I’d heard it from anyone else I would never believe it. Hancock, a <em>gentleman</em>.”</p><p>“When he wants to be.”</p><p>Nora watched as Piper’s face jumped from wide-eyed disbelief to a devilish grin. “Wait,” the reporter hissed, glancing in the direction where Hancock had just left. “So have the two of you…” she nodded to Nora’s bedroom in the loft above them.</p><p>The question brought Nora back to their tryst on the couch the night before, and the distinct lack of space that had lay between them. She could still practically taste his tongue on hers. If she hadn’t walked away, would they have…?</p><p>Suddenly aware of Piper’s eyes on her, she swallowed the memory back, reaching for a pack of cigarettes instead. “Not yet” she managed sheepishly.</p><p>“Not <em>yet</em>?” Piper echoed, her tone bent curiously upward.</p><p>Nora avoided her gaze. “We just haven’t gotten there yet. We’re still feeling things out, you know? Trying to figure out how we feel about each other.”</p><p>Piper slumped back in her chair, stunned. “Wow, you must have done quite a number on him, Blue. He’s got it <em>bad</em>.”  </p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>Piper shot another glance at the hallway before leaning forward again, her voice a low whisper. “You’re telling me John Hancock, the guy who thinks he’s Mayor Cassanova of the Commonwealth, is waiting to figure out how he <em>feels </em>about someone before he sleeps with them? It’s practically front page news, Blue! ‘Mayor of Goodneighbor, Undone by a Dame’” she spread the title out before them with a sweep of her hand.</p><p>Nora felt something drop in her stomach. “You’re saying its not possible?”</p><p>Piper smiled. “Trust me Blue, with you anything is possible. I’m just saying it’s unlike him.” She tilted her head this way and that, considering her next words: “and maybe a little noteworthy.”</p><p>Nora tapped the pack of cigarettes on her palm nervously. “You think it could be the real deal?”</p><p>Piper crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re worried its not?”</p><p>“A little,” she replied, eyes falling to her palm. “The mark makes it all muddy, you know? It’s hard telling what he wants and what the mark forces him to want.” </p><p>Piper’s eyes narrowed in thought, the silence between them briefly interrupted by the sound of running water starting in the other room. The reporter nodded in the general direction of the bathroom. “Have you tried asking him?”</p><p>She shook her head. “Not in so many words, no.”</p><p>Piper made a vague gesture with her hand. “There are only so many words, Blue.”</p><p>“Easy for you to say” she snapped. “I’m not even sure what it is I want to ask.”</p><p>“How about ‘Hancock do you like me? You know, <em>like me </em>like me.’” The reporter pretended not to notice Nora’s flat, unamused look. “Or maybe ‘Hey Hancock, would you like to <em>bone</em>.’”</p><p>“Jesus, Piper.”</p><p>“What I’m trying to say, Blue, is that the guy is clearly crazy for you or he wouldn’t have followed you all the way to his least favorite place in the Commonwealth just to flirt with you. <em>Something </em>is convincing him to stick around.” Nora opened her mouth to say something, but Piper was quick to interrupt her: “And don’t tell me it’s just sex. We both know he can get that anytime he wants in Goodneighbor. Hell, he could probably get it here if he looked in the right places. If I’m any judge of character, the guy is absolutely head over heels for a certain gal in a tight blue jumpsuit.” She wiggled her shoulders suggestively at that last part .</p><p>Nora’s face felt very warm, and she became suddenly interested in poking through the contents of her cigarette box. “It’s just been a while, you know? I was sleeping for—”</p><p>“—200 years, I know. But that doesn’t mean you can’t fall in love again. You’re still as fresh as the day they popped you in the freezer.”</p><p>Nora laughed weakly at that. “You flatter me.” She turned the pack of cigarettes over in her hand so that her wedding ring was visible. “I guess it feels strange too, moving on. Like I’m being dishonest somehow.”</p><p>Piper’s face grew soft, and she reached out to cover Nora’s hand—a compassionate gesture, the type only a big sister could give. “You know Nora,” the reporter said, “he may be dead, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go on living your life. I mean, if your situations were switched, would you want him to wait around for someone who wasn’t coming back?”</p><p>Nora pursed her lips as she fought back the tears forming in her eyes. Maybe Piper was right. After all, there was little of her old life left in this world. She had learned to adapt for survival, but had she let the rest of her catch up with reality? If Nate was in her place, would she want him fighting the good fight to find their son by himself? Would she want to be the dead thing keeping him from finding love again?</p><p>With a quick, decisive motion, Nora stood up and twisted the ring from her finger, crossing the room to set it on a shelf with a series of other knick-knacks—a broken camera, an old hairbrush, all relics of a long-gone world, of her life before the bombs. She looked at it, half-expecting the ring to look at her forlornly from its place on a dusty shelf, or for the spectral voice of her husband to raise itself form the ether to mourn her lost loyalty. Neither happened. Instead, it sat there, looking very much like a ring someone might have worn 200 years ago.</p><p>“How ya feeling, Blue?”</p><p>Nora sucked in a deep breath through her nose, then exhaled. “No different than I did before.”</p><p>She heard footsteps behind her as she continued to consider the ring, only to be drawn from her meditation by Piper, who’d rested her hand on her shoulder and offered her a beer. “C’mon, tell me about this case you and Nick are working on. I want to write a piece on it for the next issue of the Publick.”</p><p>***</p><p>By the time Hancock had cleaned up, Piper had already left. Not that he was surprised—he was long overdue for a good scrub, and hadn’t had the luxury of running water for a long time, even in Goodneighbor. So he’d taken his time cleaning up so those two could catch up without a squeaky third wheel getting between them. Not that his reasons were entirely selfless—Nora’s setup here in Diamond City <em>was </em>pretty sweet.</p><p>The bathroom was little more than a showerhead by a floor drain surrounded by stacks of concrete for privacy, but it still felt damn luxurious to stand under the water and watch all the grime sluice off his skin and down the drain. And of course Nora, being the angel she was, had set out a clean towel and spare toothbrush for him by the sink, which he used to scrub the stale air from that gas mask out of his mouth. He even trimmed his nails before digging around in her spare dresser for a pair of jeans and a white undershirt that fit him. By the time he’d finished, he felt like a new ghoul—pretty enough to eat off of.</p><p>Just as he was throwing his towel over the cinderblocks to dry, he heard footsteps behind him.</p><p>“You were in there for a while” Nora teased.</p><p>“What can I say, I’m a dirty guy. Takes a while to get me clean.”</p><p>She crossed her arms at that, fighting back a smile. “Well I need to clean up a bit too. Would you mind grabbing us something to eat at the noodle stand?”</p><p>“Yeah, noodles sound good. I’ll grab us some.” He grabbed a pair of road boots and tugged them on. “What time you got?”</p><p>Nora fumbled with her pipboy for a moment. “It’s just a little after five. We don’t have to meet Nick until midnight.”</p><p>Hancock reached for his jacket and gloves. “Any plans after dinner?”</p><p>She continued to fiddle with the knobs of her pipboy. “Nothing in particular. Thought I’d start working on that hazmat suit, maybe get some shuteye before we meet Nick.”</p><p>Hancock grunted in response as he pulled on his mask. “Alright then, I won’t be long.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Please</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Did you see how I upped the rating to "explicit?" Weird, huh?<br/>Anyways, here you go. (ノ◕∀◕)ノ</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a bit of a line at the noodle stand, but Hancock didn’t have to wait long to order food. As an added bonus, the stand being so busy meant that no one seemed to notice him among the crowd. When he snuck away with two steaming bowls of noodle broth, the dinner crowd was still in full swing, and he managed to slip through the front door of Homeplate unseen.</p><p>When he closed the door behind him, Nora was nowhere to be seen—probably still getting cleaned up—but there was radio was on and a slow, sweet tune was wafting through the house. Hancock set their bowls on the table and turned to lock the front door behind him. Just as the lock clicked into place, he heard Nora’s voice calling from the other room.</p><p>“Hancock? Is that you?”</p><p>“The one and only” he called back.</p><p>“Could you come here and help me with something?”</p><p>“Yeah, just a sec.” He pulled the gas mask off his head, depositing it on a nearby chair along with his coat and gloves before kicking off his boots.”</p><p>“I’m upstairs” she called out again. The slight tremble in her voice caught Hancock’s attention</p><p>“You alright?” he asked.</p><p>“I’m fine, just come up.”</p><p>Hancock padded up the stairs. The loft was separated from the rest of the house by a wall of bedsheets stitched together and hung from the rafters. A series of string lights dangled on the other side of the fabric, making the whole second floor glow like a Christmas tree. When he reached the top of the steps, he had to push aside a sheet to access the privacy of her bedroom. When he entered, his jaw dropped.</p><p>Nora was standing barefoot on the worn carpet spread over the floorboards, her shoulders draped in blue and the bare skin of her back glowing in the soft light. She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of his footsteps, electric blue eyes piercing him as he stared. “Could you zip me up?” she asked coolly, as if she wasn’t the most beautiful thing in the whole damn Commonwealth. “I can’t reach.”</p><p>Hancock’s eyes traced a dastardly line from her hips to her shoulders, causing heat to pool low in his belly. He willed himself to move forward, but his body was frozen to the spot. Instead, he swallowed hard and managed to form a few words. “Is that the dress from—”</p><p>“Fallon’s? Yeah. Haven’t worn anything like it in a while. Thought I’d give it a try.” She smiled over her shoulder, and Hancock thought he’d melt into a puddle on the floor right then and there. That goddamn beautiful smile had enough fire to fuel his legs in their journey to the other side of the room. He cleared his throat as he approached her, hands shaking.</p><p>“It looks nice on you.” He paused, brow furrowed, then corrected himself. “Beautiful, actually. You look beautiful.”</p><p>She shot him another glance over her shoulder. “You haven’t even seen it yet. Zip me up so I can show you.”</p><p>Hancock nodded, and tried to hide the tremble in his fingers as he reached to brush Nora’s hair over her shoulder. When he did, he saw goosebumps prickle up smooth, freckled skin of her back. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to lean down kiss each of those freckles, but he thought better of it. After giving his fingers a good flex to make sure they still worked, he grabbed the zipper and slowly pulled up.</p><p>The dress zipped up easily, like it was made just for her. When he reached the top, Hancock felt just bold enough to sweep her hair back over her shoulders. “Alright sunshine, let’s see it.”</p><p>Nora turned around slowly, eyes watching him hesitantly as he drank her in.</p><p>Hancock tried to remember how to breathe. She was beautiful, absolutely perfect. The soft blue hue of the dress made her skin glow and her eyes sparkle. Her hair fell over her shoulder in soft waves, and she’d painted her lips that sultry shade of victory red he always saw women wearing in the pre-war mags.</p><p>“Do you like it?” she asked, somehow unsure of herself.</p><p>Hancock met her gaze and let out the breath he had been holding in his chest, somewhere close to his heart. “Yeah sunshine, I really like it.”</p><p>She took a step forward, and Hancock’s skin began to buzz.</p><p>“Look Hancock, I wanted to tell you something…about last night. You know, when you kissed me?”</p><p>“What about it?”</p><p>She took another step forward, now standing less than an arm’s length from him. “Well, I’ve been thinking about it. At the time I was scared, because I was still trying to figure out how I felt, with the mark and all.” She paused to bite her lip, and it took every ounce of Hancock’s self-control not to reach down right then and bite it for her. He hoped beyond hope that this was going where he thought it was, that she’d seen him looking at the dress and thought of him. That she thought of him in that way.</p><p>He swallowed hard. “Well, what are you thinking now, sunshine?”</p><p>She took another step forward. Her body was now flush against his, and she placed trembling hands on his hips. When she tilted her head to look up at him, he saw that her eyes were dark with unmistakable lust.</p><p>“I’m thinking that I wish we hadn’t stopped.”</p><p>Hancock searched her face for a moment, not daring to believe what he had just heard. But when he saw the flush of her cheeks, the way her lips parted, anticipating his answer, he knew she’d meant it.</p><p>It was such a sweet, tender moment, Hancock was afraid he would break it, but Nora had an expectant look in her eyes. She wanted the next move to be his, and damnit if he wouldn’t oblige. So, Hancock treaded carefully. He eased one hand up to rest on her waist, then reached with the other to hold her chin between a thumb and forefinger, tilting her mouth towards him. He held her there for a moment, scared she might shatter beneath his touch, like fine china. When soft smile reassured him he wouldn’t break her, he reached down to brush his lips against hers.</p><p>It started out sweet and slow, but then came the familiar burn of the night before, their marks zinging against their skin like lightning. Hancock tried his best to fight it, to keep the moment soft, but his resolve broke when Nora pressed her hips flush against his, her tongue parting his lips to taste his mouth.</p><p>He inhaled sharply and, not wanting a repeat of the night before, began to pull back. He was stopped by Nora’s hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“Wait,” she pleaded.</p><p>He met her gaze hesitantly. “I’m sorry, I…I don’t want to mess this up.”</p><p>She smiled up at him, breath shaking as she inhaled, then exhaled her next words. “John, please. I want this. I want you.”</p><p>Those words were enough to break the dam, and the rest came rushing out in a flood of uncontained lust. He surged forward, lips crashing against her in a desperate frenzy, biting and sucking as they both scrambled to pull at each other’s clothing. The dress zipped down just as easily as it had gone up, and he was pushing it off her shoulders as his belt went crashing to the ground. He pulled back from her long enough to pull his shirt over his shoulders, then set to placing hot, open-mouth kisses down the length of her neck while he pulled at the clasps of her bra.</p><p>Nora let out a soft moan at his lips on her neck, fingers trembling as she fumbled with the button of his jeans. Hancock reached a hand down to help her, pulling back long enough to push his jeans and briefs down his legs. By the time he’d finished untangling his feet, Nora was standing completely naked before him.</p><p>He took a moment to drink it all in—the soft skin of her stomach, the curve of her hips, the taut pink buds of her nipples. He reached a hand out to cup her breast, grazing a thumb over her nipple, and her responding gasp was enough to undo him.</p><p>“Nora, I…can I—”</p><p>“Yes,” she said. “Whatever you want.” Then a soft “please.”</p><p>He captured her mouth in another heated kiss, relishing in the feel of his naked body pressed against hers—his rough, ridged skin troubling the smooth plane of her body. They grasped at each other, drinking the other in as they fumbled their way across the room. Hancock led Nora backwards until her legs pressed against the bed, then he guided her down onto the mattress, cradling her head as he climbed atop her. A soft whine escape her throat as he settled between her legs, and the sound sent an electric shock straight to his groin.</p><p>He paused for a moment as he towered over her, breathing in the sight of her sprawled out beneath him. The blue of her eyes were all but swallowed by the dark of her pupils, her lipstick was smeared across her swollen mouth where he’d kissed her (where <em>he </em>had kissed her), and the skin of her chest was flushed pink with desire. He reached out to wipe away a smear of lipstick before kissing her again, not caring that he probably looked a damn fool with that red stuff all over his own mouth.</p><p>She ground up against him as he kissed her, and a harsh groan escaped his throat as her wetness slid against the length of his cock.</p><p>“You’re gonna kill me, sunshine” he rasped against her mouth, his voice thin with strained desire.</p><p>“John, please” she sighed, forehead pressed against his. “Just fuck me already.”</p><p>Something utterly feral rumbled in his chest at that, and Hancock nipped at soft skin of her lower lip, cock pressing hard and needy into that warm wet place between her legs. “I won’t last long if you keep talking like that.”</p><p>“Then stop <em>teasing </em>me!” she whined.</p><p>Hancock managed a chuckle, hand reaching down to grip the base of his cock. “If you say so.” Then, with a gentle nudge, he began to push into her.</p><p>The feeling was like nothing he’d ever felt before. None of his past lovers (as if he could even use that word to describe them after this) had ever affected him in this way. Sure, there was the warm-wet softness of a woman, the telltale squeeze of her around his cock and resounding “oh!” that told him she was feeling just as good as he was. His mark was singing against his skin like this was all it had wanted since he was goddamn 16, but that wasn’t even the half of it. The rest was all Nora—the way her fingers scrabbled for purchase against the lean, knotted muscle of his back, the way her stomach clenched as he pushed to the hilt, grinding the sensitive skin of his pelvis against hers, the soft flesh of her thighs squeezing his waist as she wrapped her legs around him. They fit each other like a glove, and for a single bright moment, there was nothing in this whole goddamn world but the two of him.</p><p>When he was confident she’d had time to adjust to the length of him, he began to move, pressing slow and syrupy thrusts between her thighs, savoring the flutter of her eyelids as her head fell back against the pillow in pure bliss. He wanted to luxuriate in this, to take his time leaning into her ecstasy, but then she began to rock against him with a pace that begged for more, and who the hell was he to deny her what she wanted? So his thrusts became shorter and faster, until he was shaking and stuttering against her, the obscene slaps of their lovemaking echoing against the blanketed walls of the room in harmony with their coupled moans. He felt nails digging into his back and he hoped to god they’d leave a mark—something to remember her by, to prove this wasn’t just the best wet dream he’d ever had.</p><p>Just as he thought he couldn’t hold back his orgasm much longer, he felt Nora begin to shudder beneath him, and his name escaped her lips in a soft cry. The feel of her clenching and pulsing around him was enough to send him over the edge, and with a few shallow thrusts, he was quick to follow, his warmth spilling inside of her as his fingers dug into the mattress and he ground out her name between his teeth.</p><p>He held himself over her for a moment while his cock pulsed out the last of his orgasm, finally pulling out of her just as his arms felt like they were about to give out beneath him. With a pleasantly-drained groan, he rolled over to lay on his back beside Nora, chest heaving as he rode out the pleasant aftershocks. He surprised himself with how natural it felt when Nora nestled into his side, throwing a lazy leg over his hip as they both caught their breath. He reached an arm around her, heart soaring at the feel of her laying warm and liquid against him in her beautiful post-coitus glow, the flesh between her legs tender-pink and swollen.</p><p>“Damn, sunshine” he finally managed.</p><p>“Damn yourself,” she crooned against the rough flesh of his neck. “I haven’t been fucked like that in 200 years.”</p><p>He managed a breathy laugh at that. “Happy to help.” A pause. “You’re really something else, you know that?”</p><p>She turned so that her chin rested on her chest, and she looked up at him through heavy-lidded lashes. “I’m glad we did this” she said.</p><p>“Me too.”</p><p>“And I’m sorry I ran out on you yesterday.”</p><p>“You know, somehow I think I’ll find it in me to forgive you.”</p><p>She smiled at that, and the way she crinkled her freckled nose was so damn cute, he couldn’t help but lean in and kiss it. Her smile spread, and she leaned in to kiss him on the mouth.</p><p>“You know,” Hancock muttered against her mouth, “I gotta say, I have bad news for you, sunshine.”</p><p>Her eyes flicked from his mouth to his eyes. “What’s that?”</p><p>“Your noodles are probably cold by now.”</p><p>***</p><p>By the time they made it downstairs, their noodles were indeed cold. Not that Nora minded. She’d taken her sweet time climbing out of bed, making a show of leaning over with her ass in the air while she retrieved her underthings. Hancock had responded by smacking her ass <em>hard</em>, which had led to her chasing him around the room in an attempt to smack his ass back. By the time she got a hold of him, she’d forgotten why she was even chasing him in the first place, and simply settled for another kiss, which was interrupted when John tried to pull her panties out of her hand while gently pinching one sensitive nipple. She snatched her clothes back from him with a gasp, but not before he reached down with one clever hand to cup her sex possessively.</p><p>That led to round two, which was longer than the first, and ended with Nora on top fighting for control while he thrust into her from below. It also resulted in a few mottled bruises on her breasts and neck where he’d kissed her a little too hungrily.</p><p>Eventually they managed to tear themselves away from each other long enough for John to pad down the stairs and return with a damp cloth, which Nora accepted gratefully before cleaning herself up. They both had a slight wobble to their legs as they pulled on the rest of their clothes, but Hancock still managed to smack her ass one more time one her way down the stairs to the kitchen.</p><p>They ate dinner together in comfortable silence. The only sound that passed between them was the airwaves of Diamond City Radio playing mellow, late-night tunes with nothing but radio silence between tracks. Nora figured they would have a talk eventually—about the two of them, what this meant, what they were to each other—but for now she was content to simply bask in the glow of it all, to wait for the flood waters to die down now that the dam had finally broke.</p><p>After dinner, they sat themselves down on the couch, where Hancock smoked a cigarette with an arm around Nora’s shoulder while she worried over the seams of her hazmat suit, her hair pulled back in a ponytail that he lazily twirled between his fingers as she worked. Every now and then they would glance at each other, and a smile would pass between them, as if they were telling each other “yes, it <em>can </em>be this easy.”</p><p>They eventually fell asleep like that, with Nora’s head leaning into his chest, her sewing laying across her lap, and Hancock fingers twisted in her ponytail. When midnight rolled around, they were stirred from their sleep by a sharp rap on the front door, causing Nora to lift her head from Hancock’s chest just enough to check the time on her pipboy.</p><p>“Is that really the time? Shit—Come in!” she called as she rolled off the couch, setting the hazmat suit on a nearby dresser.</p><p>Hancock heard the click of the lock in the other room as Nick closed the door behind him, and the synth detective appeared around the corner, eyes glowing in the dim light of the living room. Golden eyes darted to where the two had been lying on the couch, then to Hancock’s untucked shirt and Nora’s disheveled hair. Hancock cleared his throat as he stood up, trying not to make a scene of tucking his shirt back in and searching for his boots and gun.</p><p>“The two of you manage to get some rest?” Nick asked.</p><p>“Yeah!” Nora called out as she jogged to the other room. “Just let me grab my pack and we can head out!”</p><p>Nick turned to John, who was making a point of avoiding his gaze while he pulled on his gloves and jacket.</p><p>“Got a smudge right there” the synth said, pointing to the corner of his own lip. Hancock wiped at his face with the heel of his hand, glad he couldn’t blush when it came away red with Nora’s lipstick.</p><p>“Trying on a new color, ya like it?” he rasped as he crossed the room to check a mirror, only to find smears of crimson staining his neck and shirt collar.</p><p>“I think it’s more her color than yours” he responded, a smile playing at his lips.</p><p>Hancock chuckled at that. “It sure is.”</p><p>By the time he’d wiped away the rest of the paint, Nora had returned ready to go in her road leathers, a pack swung over her shoulder and swatter in hand. Nick regarded the weapon curiously.</p><p>“Expecting a fight?” he asked.</p><p>She shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”</p><p>The detective nodded as he patted the place where his pistol was harnessed beneath his coat. “Yeah, have to agree with you on that one. C’mon. Let’s see if we can find out what Shane Watson is up to.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all so much for reading! As always, please leave kudos if you haven't already, and definitely comment your thoughts on this last chapter (my first ever smut--it finally happened friends). </p><p>Follow me on tumblr at https://mel--on--earth.tumblr.com and, most importantly, stay safe and healthy out there.</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Outplayed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Watson residence was all but swallowed by the dark chill of winter night, it’s façade dimly-lit by a lone flickering streetlight. Despite the cold, a limp trickle of rain had slicked even this nicer section of the lower stands with sloppy mud and filth. The DC guard maintained a presence in the neighborhood, but it Nick assured them it was mostly a formality, and it was unlikely that anyone would care enough to notice their business tonight. With the Dugout just down the street, the guards would be more interested in keeping an eye on the bar’s late night comings and goings. As a plus, if they were caught snooping around, it would be easy for the trio to lie about nipping in for a late-night drink.</p><p>Hancock had trailed behind Nick and Nora on the way to their destination, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, lost in his own thoughts. Part of him was curious what they were going to find hidden under the Watson home. Another part dreaded it, and yet another part of him was on cloud nine, still marinating in all the deliciously-delectable details of his evening with Nora. His head still swam with the way she’d sighed his name into his mouth, the warmth of her thighs tangled around his hips, the look in her eyes as he covered her body with his in her bed—dark-sweet and thick like molasses. Hell, Shane Watson could knock him out with a swatter to the head this very moment and he would still die a happy ghoul.</p><p>Nevertheless, he was forced back to reality when they arrived at the Watson home, where the sight of Nora wriggling under the house’s foundation on her stomach instantly sobered his thoughts. The house sat low on a makeshift foundation of cement blocks, and Nora was the only one with a small enough frame to squeeze into the low, damp space underneath. Thus, he and Nick could do little but huddle in a dark corner on the opposite end of the street, where they could keep a lookout without appearing too conspicuous.</p><p>At some point, Hancock reached for a cigarette, but stopped cold when he remembered the gas mask on his face. Nick gave him a sideways glance with glowing eyes before clapping him on the shoulder, as if to say “it’ll be alright,” or maybe “just cool it, will you?”</p><p>Hancock felt like Nora had spent an eternity crawling around down there looking for whatever it was he saw beneath the floorboards—long enough for him to think of at least three different ways this could go ass up in under a minute. True worry was just starting to itch at the back of his teeth, when he spied two feet sliding through the mud to inch their way out from under the house. Hancock took a lurching step forward to help, only to be pushed back by a synthetic hand on his chest.</p><p>The ghoul shot the detective a questioning look, then felt whatever blood was left in his face drain to his feet as voices came floating down the alley. A quick turn back to the sight of Nora—mud-caked legs sticking out from under the house in plain view—had his heart dropping straight out of his ass.</p><p>Nora must have felt something through the bond, because her slow crawl came to a sudden halt, and she froze in place like prey sensing its predator. As two figures began to round the corner, Hancock felt himself begging her to tuck tail and scram. Something must have registered, and Hancock watched in horror as she scrambled to pull herself back under the narrow foundation just as two figures rounded the corner.</p><p>Hancock may have been near worthless in that moment of panic, but fortunately Nick still had the sense to pull the two of them under the dark shadow of an overhang, where they crouched down behind a metal trash can, hidden from view. As the strangers drew closer, Hancock swiped at the wet droplets spattered on his goggles, squinting through the dark sheets of rain in an attempt to make out the approaching figures.</p><p>Two men passed under a pool of lamplight, and Hancock’s blood ran cold with immediate recognition. It was his brother. His goddamn shithead brother and Shane fucking Watson. Nick placed a staying hand on his shoulder, but it couldn’t still the hot wave of anger shimmering up his spine. He could just barely hear the two bastards talking in hushed voices, barely audible over the din of the rain. As they drew closer, he was able to make out the words:</p><p>“Ok, that’s fine” McDonough said, shoulders hunched and eyes focused forward. “Now, on the article, you know, this broken mask business. We’re in trouble here because the press is <em>not </em>under control. I’m not exactly sure how to control them. And now with Piper working alongside the vault dweller, their investigation is leading into some productive areas. My superiors tell me its they’ve got it under control, but we’ve been left in a difficult position.”</p><p>Shane fingered his bat thoughtfully. “Does she need to be taken care of?”</p><p>The mayor stopped dead in his tracks, unfazed by the heavy rain and the damp state of his tweed suit. His beady eyes darted around the empty street before he answered. “Absolutely not. You’ve drawn enough attention as it is. We need to lay low and turn their gaze elsewhere.”</p><p>“You thinkin’ of the Slog?”</p><p>He shook his head. “That would only work against us, undermine my entire political campaign. No, if we’re going to use ghouls as a distraction, I have a better plan. But to move forward we <em>need </em>to get her out of this damn city, which means you need to make sure this problem of yours is resolved first, and by first I mean <em>tonight</em>.”</p><p>Shane gave a frown and a nod. “Understood, boss.”</p><p>“You have the part I gave you?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Good. Use it. And make it convincing, or we’ll have even more problems to deal with.”</p><p>“I’ll head to the diner after my shift. It’ll get done.”</p><p>McDonough fixed Shane with a terse look before turning on his heel and disappearing down the street. Shane stood their for a moment, swatter resting on his shoulder. For a moment, Hancock was almost sure they had been caught eavesdropping, but after a few pounding heartbeats Shane just let out an exasperated sigh, spat on the ground, and strode away in the same direction as McDonough. Hancock didn’t realize he’d been clenching his jaw until the guard disappeared around the corner, and the ghoul finally had the wherewithal to open his mouth with a painful crack.</p><p>***</p><p>Their retreat was a blur—all slipping and scrambling through the mud with Hancock leading a sopping-wet Nora through the nearest alleyway, a small metal box clutched against her chest. They stumbled their way through side streets and backways until they reached the agency, where Valentine took his time unlocking the front door, collecting himself.</p><p>“I don’t think we were followed” Nick said as he turned the key, sounding not nearly as breathless as his fleshier friends. “But if my hunch about what’s in that box is right, we don’t have long until Mr. Watson comes looking for us.”</p><p>“Then let’s not waste any time” Nora pushed her way inside, placing the box on the nearest table. It was a small, tin first aid box. The blood pounded in Nora’s ears as she studied the padlock sealing its contents.</p><p>“Looks like a tough nut to crack” Nick said, leaning over her shoulder. “Might break a few lockpicks, but I think I might be able to tease her open.”</p><p>“Yeah, like we got the time for that” Nora spat. Her hand found her swatter, and with one swift movement, she arced the bat over her head, slamming it down on the lock, breaking it’s hold with a satisfying crack.</p><p>Hancock let out a low whistle. “Damn. Not worried about damaging the goods?”</p><p>Nora threw the broken lock to the side. “Based on Shane’s little conversation with the mayor, I have a feeling we don’t need to worry about that.”</p><p>“You heard that, huh?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Nora called back, fingers wrenching at the lid she’d bent out of shape with her bat. “My gut tells me Shane Watson killed his wife in cold blood, and I’ll bet you a hundred caps we’ve got the murder weapon.” She dug blunted nails under the lid, prying it open with a final grunt. There was a beat of silence as Nora shook the tension from her hands, then a resounding “huh” that hung heavy and awkward in the air as she considered the contents of the box.</p><p>“Well I’ll be damned” Nick muttered.</p><p>“What the hell is this?” Nora asked.</p><p>Nick reached into the box and pulled out a strange device. Nora had never seen anything like it before. It looked like something you’d plug into a wall outlet, but with too many prongs. The opposite end looked like a snow cone you’d buy on the boardwalk, but made of plastic and metal with screws sticking out in odd places.</p><p>Nick rotated the object with the exposed digits of his metal hand. “Dig deep enough” he said, “and you’ll find one just like it—” he tapped the side of his skull—“inside my head.”</p><p>Nora’s eyes shot to the detective. “A synth component?”</p><p>Nick nodded. “Yep, and I think you owe one of us some caps. This is no murder weapon. It’s a plant.”</p><p>Hancock groaned. “Shit, you gotta be <em>kidding </em>me.”</p><p>The light clicked for Nora.</p><p>“He’s planting false evidence,” she exhaled in disbelief. “He wants to make it look like Christine was a <em>synth</em>.”</p><p>“That’s what I’m thinking, but it’s circumstantial evidence at best. Could be anything really, maybe a souvenir from his time as a guard.” Nick thought aloud.</p><p>“He hid a souvenir under his floorboards?”</p><p>Nick gave Nora a sidelong glance. “I think we all know that’s not what this really is, but all we’ve got is a hunk of metal and our word against a guy who’s up to some shady-sounding business under orders from Mayor McDonough. If we want even a shot at implicating this guy, we’ll need more than this for our argument to hold water.”</p><p>“Well Shane said he’d take care of it tonight, didn’t he?” Hancock interjected. “If we can assume that ‘it’ is his wife.”</p><p>Nick shook his head. “What makes you think he’ll go anywhere near the body after his trump card has gone suddenly missing? He’ll need this before he can finish the job, and when it turns up missing he’ll know someone is on to him. No, we’re going to have to figure out where he hid the body before he can catch on.”</p><p>“No one’s wondering how Mayor McDumbass got his hand on a synth component?” Hancock pressed.</p><p>“It’s not like the guards have never found a synth in Diamond City.” Nick replied. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he managed to get his hands on one.”</p><p>Nora chewed nervously at a cuticle. “Ok, then think. Where could someone hide a body in Diamond City? Well, unless he managed to find a way to sneak it past the wall.”</p><p>“Not likely. The only way in and out is the front gate, and security there is heavy, and there were too many guards looking for Christine in earnest after she disappeared for me to believe they were all in on it. No, he must have hidden her away somewhere in the city.”</p><p>Nora began to pace. “He said he was going to get some food after his shift. Why would he get food before going back to a dead body? Is it in a dump? A bathroom?”</p><p>Hancock snapped his fingers. “Oh my god, no <em>shit</em>” he exclaimed. “He’s not getting food, he’s going to the <em>diner</em>.”</p><p>Nora turned to glance at Hancock, brow arched. “There is no diner in Diamond City, unless you think he’s hiding her in the Dugout? That’ would be absurd. The smell—”</p><p>“Nah, Sunshine. Not just any diner. <em>The </em>diner.”</p><p>Nora gave him a flat look, but Hancock didn’t seem to notice. He was busy tugging his mask back on and reaching for the front door. “Trust me, I’ll explain on the way.” Nora followed, but Nick hesitated, sparing another long glance at the synth component. He considered it for a moment, seemingly hypnotized by the way the light shone on its smooth surface before dropping it in his chest pocket and following the others back out into the rain.</p><p>***</p><p>Hancock led a confused Nick and Nora on a winding path through the streets of Diamond City. It was still dark out, but the rain had slowed to a steady drizzle. Slopping his way through the mud, the ghoul led them to a spot at the edge of the stadium, where he climbed the chain-link fence separating the field from the stands before urging his partners to do the same. As he proceeded to climb the steps to the top of the stadium, he began to explain.</p><p>“So I had this spot I used to go to, back before I left for Goodneighbor. It’s kind of tucked away and tricky to find, so it was like my secret hiding spot. Should still be able to reach it.”</p><p>It took some maneuvering, but the three of them managed to make the precarious climb through the half-crumbled concrete stairs, eventually making it to the top level, near the grandstand. Nora looked out and was surprised to see that they were standing higher than The Green Monster itself. “I didn’t know there was a diner behind the bleachers” she said.</p><p>“There’s not,” Hancock replied, pointing at a cracked, glass-paned door. “It’s in the VIP section.” The ghoul stuck his hand through the frame where the glass had been previously broken and turned a knob, unlocking the door form the inside with a flat “ta-da.”</p><p>Nora followed Hancock through the door and down the hall until they reached another set of glass doors with the words “The Hidden Diner” printed on a gold plaque nearby.</p><p>“Wow, I didn’t know this place was here” Nora said as Hancock pushed open the swinging doors.</p><p>“Really? Never saw a ball game at Fenway?” Nick asked.</p><p>Nora shrugged. “Sure, plenty of times, but we were always in the stands. Never had enough money to go rattle our jewelry in the private boxes.”</p><p>The diner certainly didn’t look like the upper class joint it used to be. It was just as dusty and eroded as the rest of post-war Boston. The bar appeared to have been picked clean by looters long ago. What crystal glasses didn’t lie shattered on the floor were covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, and the tables were littered with cigarette butts and debris.</p><p>It wasn’t until Nick’s voice filled the empty room with a resounding “There!” that Nora remembered why they came here in the first place. She turned to see the synth detective running towards a far corner table, the hem of his coat flying out behind him as he ran towards a tarp surrounded by the loose pages of an old newspaper.</p><p>“It’s Christine!” Nick called out. “Definitely dead. Blunt force trauma to the head. A few scrapes here and there, but it doesn’t look like any of those bled.”</p><p>“Meaning she wasn’t killed here. Her blood had already settled. She was moved to this location after she had already died.” Nora finished.</p><p>“Why the hell do you even <em>know </em>that?” Hancock hissed.  </p><p>“It doesn’t matter” Nick spat. “We need to get her out of here. Can you find another blanket or something for us to carry her in? Body’s already pretty decomposed.”</p><p>“I’ll check the back room” Hancock replied before disappearing through a door behind the bar.</p><p>Nick turned to Nora. “Let’s start wrapping her in the tarp. We have to move quick. Last thing we need is Shane showing up to stop us.”  </p><p>“I’m afraid it’s already too late for that.”</p><p>Nora felt her heart jump up to her throat before falling heavy into the pit of her stomach. She turned to the door.</p><p>“See McDonough? Just like I told you” Shane sneered.</p><p>“Yes,” the mayor replied, stepping through the doorway. “So it would seem.”</p><p>A gunshot echoed through the room and Nora sucked a quick breath into her lungs.</p><p>Shane Watson collapsed to the floor.</p><p>***</p><p>“You killed him” Nora exhaled in disbelief.</p><p>“He was put down like any other murderer would be in Diamond City” McDonough replied, his tone all too even as he lowered his smoking gun. “I was already suspicious when he led me up here, claiming that he’d killed his wife after learning she was a synth. But when I found you here with the body, I knew he’d been lying to me all along. It seems your investigation already brought you to this grim conclusion.”  </p><p>“You’re only half right, McDonough.” Nick replied, yellow eyes glowing from across the room. “You see, we found out that Mr. Watson had one of these hidden under the floor in his house.” He pulled the synth component from where he’d placed it in his coat pocket. “Looks like he was going to try to plant evidence, pull a fast one on us.”</p><p>“Despicable behavior,” the mayor said with a shake of his head. “And from my own guard. Well, at the very least, the case is closed, although Christine has no family left in the city to give her a proper burial. I will have the guard dispose of her respectfully.” McDonough holstered his gun, looking very much like he was ready to turn on his heel and leave the room. Nora stopped him:</p><p>“I dunno, McDonough, case doesn’t seem quite closed to me” she said, arms crossing over her chest.</p><p>The mayor fixed her with a steady gaze. “Oh? Has your investigation turned up anything else?”</p><p>“It has, actually” Nick drawled. “You see, when my partner asked how Shane Watson could have gotten hold of a synth component, I shrugged it off. Thought maybe one of guards brought it to you, or you bought it off someone. But then I took another look at the thing and I noticed something. Now, I’ve had occasion to see a synth in disguise put down in Diamond City. I don’t have to tell you that the evidence can get a little messy. After all, this thing would be planted in someone’s <em>brain</em>. Usually a component like this pops out covered in blood and guts.” He paused to consider the device in his hand. “Not this one though. Absolutely spotless. Like it was made yesterday.”</p><p>Something flickered in McDonough’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a plastic look of disbelief. “Are you suggesting that one of my guards has been working for the Institute?”</p><p>“I would have thought that,” Nick replied, “if I hadn’t overheard you ordering that guard to plant the component that <em>you </em>gave him on the body.” The mayor’s shoulders went tense, but Nick continued, unfazed. “If I hadn’t eavesdropped, I would have guessed that Shane was a synth, and that he killed his wife when she found out. Now, I can’t help but wonder if you’re both synths with a direct line to the Institute—your <em>superiors</em>, as you put it.”</p><p>There was a heavy beat of silence, and the mayor’s features took on a dark shadow. “You have no proof.”</p><p>Nora’s eyes whipped to Nick. “Wait, Shane was a <em>synth</em>?”</p><p>“You’re free to dig into his brain right now to find out, if it pleases you,” McDonough said coolly. “It will only implicate him, not me.”</p><p>“But what about the hair sample we found? It was blonde! Christine’s hair is black, he could have been cheating on her. What makes you think he had to be a synth?”</p><p>A nasty grin spread across McDonough’s face. “Ah, yes. The hair. Geneva keeps a brush in her desk drawer, you see. I suspected from the beginning that things were only beginning to unravel after Christine discovered Shane’s secret. I had hoped I could mislead you investigation.”</p><p>“Lucky that you were here when that failed, eh McDonough?” Nick spat. “No qualms with throwing your lackey under the bus to cover your own ass?”</p><p>“The mayor shrugged. “Politics, detective.”  </p><p>Nora shook her head, mind still wrapping around this new revelation. “But it doesn’t make any sense. Can synths even get soulmarks?”</p><p>To both Nick and Nora’s surprise, McDonough let out a booming laugh. “Ha! What you know about soulmarks could barely fill a thimble.”</p><p>“Oh?” Nick responded. “And how is that?”</p><p>McDonough sniffed. “None of your concern. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way. I have work to do at the office. I <em>am </em>the mayor, you know.”</p><p>“Bullshit. You’re not leaving this room alive, McDonough!”</p><p>The mayor let out another laugh, then fixed his face into a eerily blank stare that sent chills down Nora’s spine. “Like I said, you have no proof implicating me in this matter. This case is officially closed, and is a matter of official Diamond City business. It is no longer any of your concern, and I will remind you that Diamond City is <em>mine</em>.”  </p><p>A heavy silence hung buzzing in the air, seeming to last forever, until Nick finally let out a heavy sigh. “Unfortunately, he’s right. We’re outplayed.”</p><p>“What?!” Nora cried out. “What do you mean outplayed? He’s confessed to everything! Covering up a murder, planting evidence—he didn’t even <em>deny </em>working for the Institute. We have to report this!”</p><p>“To who?” Nick retorted. “It’s our word against the person running this whole damn city. We can’t prove McDonough had any role in this, other than the one he just played as judge, jury, and executioner.”</p><p>“Enough with the platitudes, Nick. We can’t just let him walk away!”</p><p>“What do you want me to do, shoot him? What do you think will happen if it ever got out that the only synth living in Diamond City killed the mayor? What would happen to our friends? To Piper and her sister? Do we really want to risk that kind of backlash when we don’t even have the evidence to back up our claim?”</p><p>Nora felt her lip quiver, and immediately hated herself for it, hated how childish it felt to shout and scream and stomp her feet at being told “no.” More than that, she hated feeling like her hands were bound, like she had no choice but to nod and go along with it when every part of her body was screaming no. Nick watched her process this outcome with a golden gaze that she couldn’t bear to meet.</p><p>“I will report these events to the guard tomorrow morning” McDonough said. “Good night.”</p><p>“I’d watch my back if I were you, McDonough” Nick called out. “Heard there’s a damn good detective in town who knows how to hold a grudge.”</p><p>The mayor turned on his heel and left without another word, leaving Shane Watson’s body still warm on the diner floor.</p><p>Nora grabbed the nearest empty glass and flung it against the wall, feeling no better as it shattered and fell to the floor.</p><p>“I can’t believe we let him get away, Nick.”</p><p>The synth’s face softened, eyes filled with a sadness she once would have thought impossible for a robot to possess. “I told you Nora, our hands are tied. Nothing we could’ve done would have ended well. Better that we bide our time, focus on getting this mess with your son sorted out.”</p><p>Nora sighed, shoulders slumping as she was hit with a wave of exhaustion. The night’s events had left her drained on all levels—physically, mentally, and emotionally. “You’re right Nick, I just…it doesn’t matter.”</p><p>Nick gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s leave this mess for the guard to clean up. A hot shower and some sleep will fix you right up.”</p><p>Nora was about to agree with him, but stopped herself in her tracks.</p><p>“Wait a minute, Nick” she said with dawning realization. “Where the hell is Hancock?”</p><p>***</p><p>Mayor McDonough hummed a tune to himself as he stepped off the lift into his office. Geneva must have turned in for the night, but had been kind enough to leave the door open for him. Silently, so as not to wake his secretary, the mayor slipped into his office, shutting the door behind him. Once he had tiptoed quietly into his private quarters, he locked himself in, hung his hat on a nearby coatrack, and sat himself on the edge of his bed where he set to removing his shoes.</p><p>“Late night, mister mayor?”</p><p>McDonough froze at the sound of a low, rasping voice, eyes flicking upwards to finally notice a man in a hooded gas mask sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room.</p><p>“I wondered what happened to the vault dwellers ghoul friend” McDonough responded in an even tone, eyes narrowed. “You know your kind are forbidden from entering this city?”</p><p>“I’m not really one for following all the rules.”</p><p>“Yes. Well, since I saw you entering the diner with them, I assume you were there to hear that the Watson case is now closed. You have no business being here.”</p><p>“That’s where you’re wrong” the ghoul replied, standing from his chair. “I have some pretty important business to take care of, actually.”</p><p>The mayor shot to his feet, drawing his shoulders squarely back. “I’ll tell you exactly what I told Valentine. You have <em>no proof</em>. If you take action against me now, the only thing you’ll accomplish is turning this entire city against you. You, Valentine, the vault dweller—they’ll all be tracked down. I have resources that an irradiated scavver like you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. You’ve lost. Now leave.”</p><p>The ghoul shook his head. “You always were like this, weren’t you? Always thought you were smarter than everybody else, that you could get away with anything scot-free because you were the big man in charge. Well, let me tell ya’ something guy. Your people can’t fucking touch me, because I’m not just any irradiated scavver.” </p><p>The ghoul pulled off his hood, and McDonough gaped at the site of a face that was barely recognizable, yet familiar enough to make his synthetic blood run cold.</p><p>“I’m John fucking Hancock.”</p><p>A gunshot echoed through the small room, followed immediately by the less audible clicking of a door. By the time Geneva could scramble from her bed and through the open door to the mayor’s private quarters, Guy McDonough was already dead.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ahhhhhh, you guys I'm so excited to be back!</p><p>I could write a mile-long endnote about all of the things that have been going on for me irl. In short, things have been crazy, and it has been insanely hard to find time to write, and this chapter especially was one of the hardest things I've ever had to write because of the sheer amount of ground it covered. (I have to give credit to my fiancé for listening to me talk things through and helping me figure out how to end this chapter/story arc). </p><p>I know it's been a long time since I last updated, so I just want to be clear: Do I still plan to finish this fic? Abso-fucking-lutely! This chapter marks the end of the second of three acts that I have planned for this story, and three is going to be a doozy, so buckle up. I can't tell you when I'll be able to update next, as I will continue to be very busy for the foreseeable future, but I want to update more frequently (f only because going too long without working on this fic makes writing with some semblance of continuity VERY difficult). </p><p>I hope that this was worth the wait. Thank you so much to all the people who have been leaving comments and kudos. Hearing from you is EVERYTHING and helps me stay motivated to finish this story. You are all utterly amazing.</p>
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